Re: Addictions

This thought occurred to me while I unwrapped my foot-long Sub earlier this evening, relishing its smell, imagining the crunch of its crust even before I took a big bite off it: our life is nothing but a string of addictions. From the first moment of our conscious existence until the very last breath, our life can be divided into addictions to various things. We get addicted to food, first of all, then to our parent's care and love, to adventure, music, film, books, sex, narcotics (caffeine included), tobacco, alcohol. Sometimes we kill our addictions, as when quitting smoking; we force our bodies and minds to delete an addiction. But no addiction can be deleted in full: usually another takes its place. I myself quit smoking by eating candies as soon as the craving started - my sweet tooth originates from there. I am not talking about addictions that screw our lives up, like heroin or unrequited love. I have in mind more trivial addictions: the smell of coffee or the taste of a croissant in the morning, the pleasant anticipation of a lover's warm body at night, the sound of a favourite song in the earphones. They make life bearable, these addictions, they fill up the space between the toils, pains, stress and anxieties, the sleepless nights and mornings devoid of sunshine. We attach ourselves to things to feel that we are alive, to feel the world around us still has something to give us, to make us happy. Our addictions arouse feelings in us, and while we feel, we live.

True happiness

Life, real life, passes me by as I try to grapple with my lonesome existence. I dream about my son and having him around me while I work at my desk, dragging myself through one Japanese text after another. If I close my eyes, I see him tottering into the room; as I have yet to see him walk, I have to imagine the whole thing. He hesitates for a moment at the door, knowing that he's breaching the sacred rule set out for him by his mother (Do not disturb your father, he's working!), but he also knows that I will be happy to see him. I imagine looking up for a second to see him peeping at me from the distance and smiling when our eyes meet. I leave everything that I'm doing, stand up and start playing with him, surrendering to his every whim and wish, now carrying him on my back as his horse, now playing with his cars. And feeling, in between the shifts at the desk, that that is what you call true happiness, and looking forward to it once again.