Addiction

The plainly dressed, nondescript man with ordinary features and static demeanor approached my desk. Clutched in his hands was a piece of paper. A piece of elusive, golden, precious paper that I wished for every month. As he handed over the cheque, I grasped it with desperate fingers. The culmination of an entire month's frustration finally wiped away by one slip of paper. As I stared at the numbers in black ink, a small part of my curled up in pain and cried big, breaking sobs of pain.

I pulled my cap low over my eyes and cautiously made my way to the slot machines. That small slip of paper no longer tucked safely in my pocket. And as I lost it all away, the crying inside my head grew louder and louder until the sound of my hysteria drowned me, deafened me and the light switch inside my head turned off.

"And I feel something so wrong,

doing the right thing,

I could lie, could lie, could lie, 

Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly..."