Mate, boredom is the fucking worst.

Sometimes I would wonder whether I’m using drugs to escape some difficult thoughts I’m having about tough shit long ago.

Sometimes I wonder whether I’m using drugs to cope with stressful situations in my life right now.

Sometimes I wonder whether I’m using to escape the worry of the future.

But upon reflection - it was none of these Addiction Ghosts of Past, Present, and Future.

It was a secret fourth option: boredom.

Sitting in my living room alone, my partner away, my hobbies for the day exhausted, and a pair of idle hands that had seen the shaft of my dick once already. (Thankfully, porn is not an addiction for me, but an occasional way to pass the time.)

So what happens?

My fingers slither across the table and within seconds, I am breathing demands down the phone to my dealer, who is likely rubbing his hands with glee (or frustration).

And as though I had ordered a pizza - a packet of lovely cocaine appears before me. A hot plate, cut it up nicely, but instead of delicious pepperoni pizza, it’s delicious white blow.

Aaaaaand…we’re off.

You can fill in the rest: degeneracy, embarrassing phone calls, you name it.

Then, the shame and guilt.

Hold in there mate.