Are You Addicted Mga Nobela at Kwento

I was almost afraid to ask him aloud. "I've only used it a few times before, I just did it because they told me you couldn't get addicted" He explained, biting his nails while staring up at me. I guess that was always the issue with him, he was always too gullible. He seemed fine for now, but it was tomorrow I was worried about. I know he thinks he's not addicted, and he possibly might not be; but it's the idea of him doing this to himself. It's basically self sabotage and he doesn't even realise it.

"I know you have been stalking me. How long has it been going on like that? To meet your grandfather, you stoop this low, like paying those homeless people there to kill me? What? Did you plan to meet him in the morgue or graveyard?" Her back stiffened as Bash used that word. Graveyard. It triggered a memory that she had to shake away from her mind. "It's your...mental breakdown talking. It's okay. I can feel you." She lowered her gaze, not wanting Bash to see her red-rimmed eyes. Trying hard to keep her emotions at bay, she ranted, "That is normal after what happened to you in that street. People there can be violent because of poverty, unemployment, and addiction that an addict can't get r

"If I could be there, I would. You know I miss you a lot." He tightly squeezes the soda can, causing the aluminum to crumple slightly. "Yeah, I miss you too, and I understand. I guess." He lets out a heavy sigh, his hair falling into his face as he slumps. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you..." He glances to his right, checking for any eavesdroppers where his door used to be. "Yeah?" He guzzles down his soda and wipes his mouth on his arm. "I know Mom had a masturbation addiction or something. That means we could be prone to addiction too, right? So, what's considered excessive?"

“Told you that before. It's a medicine I need to calm my nerves down.” The room went silent. I could hear the clock ticking. I could hear the sound of Dom’s breathing. His hands folded across his chest as he leaned down until his face was level with mine. "Why do I feel like you're kind of addicted to that thing?" he asked. The word hit me like a slap. Addicted. "Dom, are you serious?" I laughed, but it sounded forced. "It's tea. Nobody gets addicted to tea. It’s not like it's a drug. It's leaves and water."

The question struck like ice against my spine. Hooked? Did he seriously just ask that? With everything I was juggling, the very idea was absurd. I barely had the space to breathe some days, let alone fall into some kind of addiction spiral. “I’m not addicted,” I said flatly, refusing to let the question crawl any deeper under my skin. “You sure?” His voice was tentative, but honest. “If you are, we can get you help. I’m not judging you, Velara.” “Damon, I told you, I’m not addicted,” I repeated, firmer now. “I don’t take them all the time. Only when you…” My voice faltered for a beat. “You know. And lately… when I see you.”

When that addiction nudges at the back of my mind. We all have something we’re addicted to. For some people, it’s alcohol or drugs. For some people, it’s real things that are tangible. Things you can physically touch and taste and see. For other people, they’re addicted to less visible things. They’re addicted to feelings and sensational things that can slip away easily as water can run through their fingers. That’s me. That’s my downfall. The things many people take for granted, the things they don’t always recognize are there—they’re the things I’m addicted to; Intimacy Connection and Love.

All addictions are bad, Unless they give you a reason to live. All controls are good, Until they take away all your reasons to live. .....................................................

Since then, he has become a constant presence in my thoughts, my dreams, and even my social media feeds. I grab my phone and open my favorite news app, searching for any updates about him. My fingers tremble with excitement as I scroll through the headlines, hoping to catch a glimpse of his name or picture. It may sound obsessive, but I can't help myself. Michael has become an addiction—a captivating enigma that I can't resist.

As Charles exhaled, he looked Tony dead in the eye. "I'll tell you the same thing I tell everyone else that comes through these doors without firsthand knowledge of the struggle- and yes I struggle with addiction too. Addiction is not purely selfishness. There is indeed a physical component- do not mistake me, willpower and the desire to change are the cure. An addict becomes an addict at first because they have the brain chemistry conducive to euphoria. That's why only some become addicts after injuries and pain killers. That's why addicts get dope sick too.

I love babies. who aren't annoying. "Next." I said. "Last and the most important one." She said as I kept my attention on her. "Addiction." She said as I looked at her with a confused face cause what type of addiction. I surely don't have an addiction. "Like what?" I asked. "Drugs, smoking and drinking till you pass out." She said as I completely went silent. I fucked up bad...... Zeeshant you piece of shit didn't even understand her staying away from you while you were smoking. Dumb, you dumb.