The struggle is real
I felt the craving hit. It was too soon. Church was not the place to reveal my addictive behavior. With all their talk of acceptance, these churchgoers would never understand. They see no evil, fear no evil, and speak no evil. They would hardly condone my habit or bless my passion for the extraordinary.
Soon mass would be over, and I could put an end to pain that plagued me. I bided my time with thoughts of showing these people the true me. I laughed, trying to predict the reaction of the faithful in the pews beside me. There would be eyebrow raising, head shaking, and too many tsk, tsks to count at the sight of my nastiness. The lady in the front pew would be vocal in admonishment of me. The kind and gentle priest would offer counsel. The children would hide in their fright. The old couple in back would light candles in prayer. It would be a whole different kind of mass, such as this parish had never seen. I would fight their attempts to expulse my demons. They would be made to pay a high price for my exorcism.
"Hail Mary full of blood...I mean grace. Damn, I'm slipping. It is calling to me like a siren. Can they see my yearning? Does my need somehow show on my face? I can think of nothing else. I have let it become my sickness," with the random firing of thoughts in my head.
I could feel the hunger taking control. Desire was coursing through my veins. The sweat from my brow dripped in my eyes. I was becoming jittery and panicked in my withdrawal. The fever was overtaking. I had to make a temporary escape to the restroom. I doused my face in cool water from the sink. It relaxed me to dry the sweat on the back of my neck, under the hand dryer. It was a fleeting relief for the monkey on my back.
I returned to my seat for the final prayers. The mass has ended, now go in peace. Oh such peace, I will finally know. I hurried through the exit line, jogging to my car. My need to make it home was strong. I hated myself for the power I had tossed away with my dependence. I was weak because of the need that festered.
Once in the driveway, I bounded into the house. I needed my fix, but first I had to change my clothes. It wouldn't do for me to dirty my church attire. I was already soiled by my fixation. I went to the spare bedroom to nab my stash. I had hidden it to save for later. I checked to ensure that I was alone in the house. In my right mind, I knew my kids should never witness my struggle with addiction.
I sat on the bed and picked up my sweet, sweet love. I could already feel the endorphins rushing to my brain. There was clarity to my thinking even before it touched my lips. I held it up to the light to gage the purity. The white fluffiness intrigued me. The eyes were pink and luminous. Its nose wiggled in expectation. It was just a moment before the fur flew, with my thirst quenched. So gentle, is the nuzzling of a bunny. Such tender comfort, the bunny brought to me.
I recalled that Easter was my favorite time of the year, with the beautiful white bunnies that brought me joy. At Christmas, the baby chicks or peeps fed my cravings. I must admit, these damn bunnies are addicting! I sometimes like the chocolate variety, as well.
Word Count 603