SWEET ADDICTION

flash fiction.

Sex is sweet.

Try having one with random strangers, doing the most out-of-pocket things to you, now that…that is Heaven. Add drugs and some booze , perfection!

I don’t sound crazy, you just love to lie.

You love the drugs, the sex, the alcohol and masturbation.

You tell yourself you do it because you need a distraction, yet deep down you do it because you genuinely love it. You were made for this life. You love how it makes you feel.

You live in denial of your true nature and essence, pretend to your church members, friends, your family and colleagues, yet you live out your fantasy of f*ucking your co-worker with me each visit.

How dare you stand on a pedestal and try to talk down at my choices. I am happy where I am and accepted my destiny for what it is, while you constantly live in confusion of what you are and what you should be.

These words and more I heard while seated at the pool table at W BARZ. Two people who seemed friendly having a casual yet heated conversation, perfect for gossip with my sisters later tonight. Yet here I am, home, staring at my three-blade fan twirling slowly above my head wondering if some people were genuinely born to lead a destructive life no matter what they would have preferred.

My logic is the interlace of light and darkness, good and evil.

I remember Pa Emeka, hardworking man, did everything by the books yet died miserable and wretched in the same world where others are not as diligent , yet live a life worthy of envy.

If it was solely a matter of choice, why did Pa Emeka die no better than a beggar.

What if Ifesi as her friend had called her at the bar was indeed predestined to live the life of an addict, a life that leads to destruction and no matter how many times she turns away she will always find herself back there because that is the only time she finds true happiness and originality.

Now I’m wondering how many of my friends are running away from their destructive destiny, or if there is even a destructive destiny.

But in church, I am taught that JESUS makes everything better. Ifesi perhaps need Jesus. I don’t know because I am only just getting serious with Jesus myself .

I must sleep, Ifesi will not be there to help me serve out my query when I am caught sleeping at work indiscriminately.

Ifesi… I mumbled as I drew a long yawn.