dive into mark

Salon.com: Camels and cowboys.

Addiction for me is strange; in the middle of it, it’s like I’m in a tunnel. Quitting is unimaginable. The thought of it makes me feel lonely and jittery. But somewhere in the middle of the addiction, this dark tunnel (at a time when I strangely don’t feel lonely), my body tires of the constant subliminal messages that are bombarding it. I can no longer bear the thought of myself dying of lung cancer, of my sick father, frowning as he wonders why I’m throwing away the health that he’d give anything to have again, of my friends shifting their position to avoid the noxious fumes that emanate from my direction. My body just gives me an escape clause, a ladder is lowered, and if I take it, then quitting is fairly easy. If I don’t quit then, I’m trapped again. Eventually, weeks — maybe months — later, another ladder is lowered. I wonder if everybody’s body gives them these little escape hatches, times when quitting is so much easier and more imaginable.

I’ve updated my addiction essay with a reference to this piece, and a few other previously unreleased details.

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