Being right is a kind of torture I chase after.
It burns through me immediately.
It gives me the courage to jump off a cliff.
Being right is the same kind of adrenaline.
Fight or flight. Knowing I will be right always turns my fight on.
That gut wrenching feeling of knowing I am right. And I get high all over again.
I put myself in situations I know I will be right about.
Like knowing how much you still loved her.
Or how you would go back to her after I was gone.
It was a pain I needed. I sought it out.
I dreamt of scenarios and woke up sweating from anxiety.
Overthinking those dreams and I would hunt for my next fix.
And I always found it. I always found the next time I was right.
It made me feel alive.
It was the only thing that made me feel something.
...Damn I need a meeting.
