25 September, 2012
In fact, I thought the more I had the more satisfied I would be. That the urge would not be so strong. Maybe even go away. But it seems this is not the case. It actually seems like the opposite is true. The more I have the more I want. An insatiable appetite, a void that needs filling, a great big sucking hole drawing me ever closer.
It fills my waking hours. It's all I can think about. I want more. More. MORE.
I used to care what people thought. Tried to keep my intake at a level that was relatively easy to conceal. But the more I have, the more I don't care about hiding it. I don't care about the possibility of it affecting my working life. I don't care what anyone thinks. I just know I need more.
I don't care about the money it costs me either. It has certainly been an expensive habit. But I don't care, even when it's impacting my savings, getting me into debt or forcing me to scrimp on other things. I must have my fix.
I am an ink addict. The less space there is on my skin, the more I want to fill it.
Lucky I still have plenty left to go...