Novobrain

Like all addictions, it enters into every part of your life. The pursuit is at least as important as the goal.
         Small talk before I go in. My dealer has a receptionist. They each do. Coordinating takes a lot of effort; more than scoring on the street would, probably. A lifetime passes in a few minutes. I don’t even sweat anymore.
         “You may go in now.” My mind adds ‘junkie’, but she wouldn’t have a clue. They’re well trained not to notice things. Inside things are always a little on edge, but I can’t trust my senses at this point. The discussion is minimal and carefully scripted. Sometimes it takes a little movement before I come. Just enough to be worth treating; nothing too obvious. Then he shoots me up in the mouth, and I’m gone.
         It isn’t the deepest high in the world, but it works for me. A little elated, a little silly. I don’t need anything stronger, just yet. A little jack adds a kick, if necessary. Like all addictions, it isn’t really about the high.
         I’m ashamed. It’s infantile. I haven’t told a soul. Not my friends; not my mother. Certainly not my father. He’d hit the wall, or me. I won’t need to tell anyone. This can’t last.
         I hope I can beat it before my eighteenth.

Word Count: 222