to you, my friends

dear you,

i’m not a good partner. i’m not a good friend. whenever i’m with people i’m itching for my next fix. i can’t focus on the moment, just the next time i’ll be satisfied again.

no, i’m not addicted to drugs or alcohol. i’m not planning on gambling all my money away or binge eating my next meal.

i’m counting the minutes until i’m able to be alone.

to sit with a pen and paper in front of me, a laptop to the side, and get down to business.

even when surrounded by the people i love, i’m trying to figure out if it’s productive. playing with my dog for an hour even though it gives me so much joy makes me want her to calm down so i can think about my next steps, my next goals, my next big fix.

i’m an addict.

i’m addicted to false productivity; the promise of something that validates my existence, and the desire to do everything, all at once.



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