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I have this problem. It’s taken me 27 years to face it. Actually 17 if you subtract the years that love was only meant for my family. So for 17 years I have been living with this addiction. It is one that is costly on both my bank account and heart. My addiction is to that of love. My addiction is based on the drug that to me has become women. Like with heroine or cocaine when I am in love I have no control over myself. I am helpless to the drug. Wanting more and doing anything in my power to get it. I will buy gifts, write poetry, break plans with my friends just to get a fix.

I could name them all for you. There was Sarah, Holli, Lori, Amy, the list goes on. Each one had a different effect on me. Each one was her own distinct high. Some let me get really sick on them. Others did all they could to help me get sober. The majority had no idea what I was going through.

I am writing today to give you a peek into the mind of an addict. I can show you what goes on in my mind for I am currently stoned. High as a kite on thoughts of her, photos, words, and her voice. So with no further ado here is a peek into the thoughts of an addict.

“I want to call her. No, if I call her she will think I’m too needy. I want her to want to call me. Does she ever think about calling me? Does she want to see me? This is all so fucking insane. She won’t love me. She thinks she loves me, but it won’t end up that way. She will say I am a great friend. She will tell me that she wishes things were different and that she’s sorry things didn’t work out. She wants to love me but she can’t. It’s always all about the can’t.

Maybe I should write her an email. Emails are so damn impersonal. Perhaps a hand written letter. The world needs to get back into writing letters. You can touch them and save them. I love how smooth my pen writes on the paper. She will think I am insane. I just need to let things be. I need to let things happen. But she needs to know how I feel. I can’t sit back and play cool when all I want is to spend every moment with her.

She’s keeping herself from me. Maybe she doesn’t want things to get too serious. I don’t know how to not be serious when it comes to love. I’ll just call her today. I won’t call again all week. Her answering machine will probably pick up anyway. I won’t leave a message but I will listen long enough to hear her voice.

I’m going to lose her because of me. I’m going to over think things and destroy them like I always do. Maybe just a poem. I’ll write her a poem just to let her know I’m thinking about her. I need to stop thinking so damn much. But if I let go of her I let go of everything. No one will ever love me the way I love. No one will ever understand the passion in my heart. I just need a fix. I just need to hear her one more time. Just one last hit, one more injection, one final overdose.”

So there you have it. My name’s Kelly and I’m addicted to love. My heart is misplaced, my version of love is untouchable, and I am pretty sure it’s a disease.