Post Contemporany 1 - My addiction

Yesterday I felt, yesterday I felt and I realized my addiction, my addiction to clubbing. My addiction has nothing to do with the `substances`, no matter if it`s drinking, smoking or snorting, clubbing is what I can`t live without, and we all know it comes together with the `substances`. It`s not that I want to find an excuse to use whatever `substance` shows up to me, coz I am sort like that, but I always say and will keep saying I cannot club without `substances`, I get bored. It can be just one useless glass of a `drinking` or a very fast and short puff of a `smoking`, but it has to be there. I have to feel that I`ve taken something and that something can make me higher, at least higher than my ordinary state, that`s what makes me feel I`m actually clubbing. It`s been quite some time I`m in this life, but I see myself and know myself, and as soon as I quit it and move to the countryside, the use of all `substances` are slowly going to decrease. It`s all clear that it won`t disappear – life is not that smiley – but it will decrease, consideraly, staying just the ones which inspire me the most, the ones which inspire me to do other things but clubbing. The `smoking substance` inspires me to do a whole lots of other activities, on the other hand `snorting` is the best, the best ever to club, and not anything else; if one uses it properly, the most boring parties end up being the bests ever of the month – who knows which parties we had last month -, however if one takes it before using a `sex-room`, one may get embarrased. Clubbing is the way I get to know the `neighbourhood` - society -, the way I meet people, the way I learn new languages and measure how fast I`ve been learning them, the way I make my `sex-room` not to be completely useless and the way some day I will get my `wishing-room`. Clubbing is what I do in order not to need a job or study something to feel myself integrated to the new society. Foreigners usually have to have a job or to be part of any kind of educational level to feel themselves confortable and part of the new place where they are, as they don’t have their family or friends to support them they have to find and make new ones, preferable `good` ones. However once I club I don’t have to find a fucking boring job that would take the time that I could be using to meet nice people and who share the same interests as me. I meet cute good-looking guys who invite me to their home at the very same night we meet, to have some sex or whatever, and I, consequently, see the way local people live and take their life. Doing that I end up having not to deep, but quite strong relations to some guys, experimenting that will of falling in love or never ever want to see the guy again, feelings I`ve been feeling to frenquently, and that just don’t drive me crazy `coz I know how the whole `process` works. However, even knowing how it all works, it knocks me down sometimes, mainly the first days or weeks I arrive in a new `neighbourhood`, when I`m still with that feeling that in this `neighbourhood` it is easier and more interesting to find a guy on my own, a guy who I would constantly think of having our `wishing-room` together, but after some days discover that it`s the same all around the world - but that still knocks me down. Yesterday I felt, yesterday I felt and realized my addiction. I`m in my `resting-room` and I`m already resignated that I`m staying `home` tonight. Juan sends me a `short-letter` and we are now sharing some of them, writing `bout our will of going out and where we shall go. No matter the time, once someone invites me, I do go. I give him a couple of options, clubs are not that near from here and the corridors as usual are dark and freezing. I`ve changed my clothes already, the needy papers are in my pockets, but I still don’t know where we are going. My palce is confortable and warm. I`m alone. I wish I was making good use of my `sex-room`, but I`m not. I`m not the kind who get bored in my `resting-room` just `coz I`m alone, but I can`t stand lonely nights. I can spend days days days and days entertaining myself by myself, but the nights by myself makes me bored to death. I`m walking up and down in my little `room`, listening to the unusual sound of my snickers bumping on the floor – I`m always barefoot inside all my `rooms` - and making me feel I`m lost in the most known place.I`m ready to go, it`s bloody late and the night won`t be cheap, I`m ready to go, knowing that my whole day tomorrow will be fucked up, I`m ready to go. It`s been a couple of few minutes since no `short-letters` arrive, I won`t give up and I know that, the time has never been an issue to me and the weight of my tiring neither, as long as I don’t miss a clubbing night. After this long, nervous and expecting few minutes the `short-letter` finally arrives… he is dead, he gave up. I sit by the bed and feel happy for us. I always feel satisfied when someone convinces me not to go out, usually it`s on the other way around and I always manage to do the not very difficult task of convincing a friend to go around and see what`s the luck of the day. I feel happy `coz I know it`s the `best` for me, but like a drug addicted, I miss, I miss the music, I miss the unknown people around, I miss the feeling of being alone in the middle of a crowd, I miss the lights blinding my eyes…abstinence…and I have an awful sleeping night.