Book Buying Addicts Anonymous Novels & Stories

The risk of getting caught only made us hornier. We became addicted. My grades barely mattered anymore. Brian’s scholarship hung by a thread, but the thrill of being used kept us coming back. Garvin was relentless. He called for morning quickies, late-night motel runs on the floor, even once in his car in the campus parking lot where he made Brian fuck me in the backseat while he watched and stroked himself.

I could turn around and run back to the packhouse, hide in my room and never come out. But it was seven forty-five. The healing center expected me at eight. I was on probation, and being late on my first day would prove everything they’d just said about me, would confirm that I was exactly as worthless and unreliable as they claimed. I looked down at myself, at the mud coating every inch of my clothes and skin, at the way it dripped into puddles around my feet. Then I looked at the path ahead, past the training grounds, toward the healing center where I’d finally been given a chance to prove myself.

Noel smiled and silently uttered. "By then, I will wait." *** That night, as usual, Noel opened up his library in a random and hidden place, where it was reserved for only those with adventurous soul. While waiting, he read some new books that he bought from online shopping. Due to his interest in online shopping, or, to be precise, addiction, he bought a dozen boxes of books, all just to fill his collection. When the gremlins knew about that, they almost scolded him but then he said,

After years of doing the wrong things, drinking and gambling, and spending too much money to provoke my parents, I want to turn for the better. With shaking hands, I stroke my sweaty palms against my jeans. My throat is sore. I'm suffering from withdrawal symptoms, but I'm clean and have been for a week. Naturally, I want to keep going, but I'm only human and need support from a gentle soul to continue my journey. I need someone to help steer me in the right direction. Still shaking, I close my eyes but open them once I hear rustling. A person is climbing into the other booth, and my heart hammers in response, afraid of them judging me.

Dillon followed suit as they rolled their windows down. "Yer right. It's hard, I got so used to medicatin' my feelings away… it's an unpleasant sensation to feel such things like rejection or sadness again full-force. But instead of medicatin', I keep a journal now. Anytime something triggers me to want to use, I write it down, along with possible solutions to the problem," he explained, then took another drag and exhaled. "Nice! It seems like you and Anthony are makin' some real progress, huh?" Anthony was Dillon's addiction counselor, whom he still saw on a weekly basis for a one-hour session.

dad replied, “You had such a positive out look on life. I wanted you to have that happiness, instead of looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.” “Why did you tell Kent then?” I fumed. I can’t believe they’ve kept this secret from me. “Well, when Kent was 17 he was already in a gang,” dad sighed. “I didn’t know dad had a gang, until I made my first drug deal with his gang,” Kent admitted. “Okay,” I sighed, finally letting everything sink in. “We were just trying to protect you,” mom assured. “I understand that,” I breathed, “But who is Ken Walter, and why did you sell me to him.”

I know this is not my first time even though I don't want to. Doctor Frank was a good person, he treated me well, and he is the one who consoled me when every single truth I learned. He sent me to drug rehab to forget my addiction, he visited me on weekends, and he gave me mental treatments and counseling to handle situations. After two months they discharged me from rehab care cause Neer and Kath helped me. Here I am in the streets wandering around, my feet were killing me in pain cause I walked for a long time. I decided to sit on the bench near the cafe shop. I was hungry as hell but I don't even have a penny to buy anything. So I just sniffed the coffee aroma in the air and sighed, sudde

Happy new week guys. Thanks for all the support last week, tho the goal still wasn't met. Don't you guys like the book??

But a larger part of him understood addicts harbored dark secrets that would shock and sicken some people who’d never had to deal with an inner demon hell bent on self-destruction. Twelve-step meetings were a safe haven, a place to talk to folks who’d also hit rock bottom. But in some ways, those meetings provided attendees a false sense of security. If you’re in a roomful of drunks and addicts, and they’re accepting of your sordid history, well, then maybe there’s a chance others will accept you as you are now, and not judge you on what you’d done in the past. Wrong. It didn’t work that way.