I would like to walk into a quiet room with calm beige-brown walls, surrounded by a small circle of strangers I’ve never met. I’d greet them using the famous lines at every rehabilitation centres therapy group, “hi my name is Rue and I’m an addict”.
I would narrate my life story and my struggle, how difficult it was to get by. Then just before I leave I mention how I do it all on purpose. You’re not wondering what my addiction is but I’ll tell you, I’m addicted to craving disaster. Nothing thrills me more than waking up everyday and hoping something horrible happens to my life.
Why? Simple, I feel inferior, I feel my problems and mental and emotional struggles are to insignificant to cry about. I feel this way because I don’t even remember why I feel the way I do, I am just a shell of who I think I used to be before I became what I don’t know.
The only thing that keeps me going is the little hope I have that a catastrophe will take places and ruin my life so that I can finally have a good enough reason to cry myself to sleep every night.
The Chronicles of Orphic 