Long story short, this is me: I'm an addict. Not your stereotypical addict, I don't shoot up, I don't snort any powdery substances. I drown in an addiction to experiences. I'm hooked on feeling alive.
There are certain things I simply cannot live without. A steady, constant supply of coffee, nicotine, and music.
There's nothing extraordinary about me- I'm your typical story of a young college student in a Midwest city, trying to get by. Attempting to make sense of myself, the world around me.
My story is nothing particularly unusual- it's filled with the average
ingredients of youth: late nights, loud music, love, loss, a seemingly
endless cycle of disappointment and fulfillment. There are profound
moments of inspiration, revelation, and awakenings that occur
periodically, enlightenment that sneaks itself into my morning coffee
meditations.
I don't know why I'm here, specifically. I don't know what spurred me to attempt to spill my guts out on the internet, where few will find it and even fewer will find interest in them. Word vomit can be therapeutic, however, and for some reason I find it easier to spew my words onto a computer screen than handwritten pages.
So, to the random stranger that somehow stumbles into my small corner of the internet, welcome to the narrative of my spiral into addiction, and my seemingly endless search for a sense of meaning to it all.
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