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.