Miasmatic Review

Acceptance of a problem.

Some of you may have noticed I’ve been behaving strangely of late. The time has come for me to share something with you. In order to help fix the problem, I must admit my problem. Well, that is what everyone keeps telling me. This is hard for me to do; even typing this much has been difficult.

I am a substance abuser, and I’m not talking alcohol. It started a couple of months ago, I was having a problem and a friend of mine gave me something that he said would make it go away. Sure enough as soon as I took it, my problem seemed to melt away. All was right with the world. I had never used before, and never thought that I would, but it only took that one time to get me hooked.

From that day forward, I found myself turning more and more to it. It started at once a day at home. Then I went to twice a day, once during my lunch period and once after I got home. Now I’m up to 6 times a day, it doesn’t matter if I’m at home, work or the store. When the need arises, I drop it. That familiar feeling spreads across my head and down my body.

I became so dependant on it that I would get upset when I couldn’t score the kind I liked, but I was so desperate that I would try other kinds. It always seemed that the dealer may not have my particular favored kind, but they always had others. The others worked, but not as well. They just weren’t satisfying. Thus, the next chance I had, I bought a huge quantity. I think it was meant for distribution, but I didn’t care. There was no way I was going to risk running out of my kind, my particular flavor.

Even after my wife found my stash, I lived in denial. “It’s not that I need it, I just enjoy it”, I screamed at her the night she found it. How I lied that night, I needed it, I desired it, and I craved it. Like a moth to the flame, I could not stay away.

Then something happened that changed all of that. Clone got his hands on some and took it. To watch his reaction at first was amusing. He was dancing and jumping yelling, “I like it, dada. I like it!” But I could tell he was lying, he was just trying to be like dad. Then the crying started, his little body could not handle the potency. It was hurting my boy, and I knew it was bad. My boy should not have to go through something like that, so I’m trying to fix myself. I’m also warning you my fellow bloggers, my readers, my friends.

No matter how bad your breath gets, stay away from the Listerine Pocketpaks, they're addicting.