I am NOT an Addict!

It has apparently become somewhat fashionable to refer to me as an addict. Mostly in the circle of friends that my room-mates tend to keep and believe me, the prison yard at Kingston Penitentiary yields a higher intelligence quotient than the veritable colostomy bag of personalities that my room-mates count amongst their social circle.

Regardless, calling me a 'crack-addict' or a 'crack-whore-cat' or an 'astronaut' (which I assume is just another way of saying I'm all fucked up and "out-there"...) well, that shit just ain't funny.

I am not an addict, I do not enjoy being on drugs and I do not take drugs willingly.

My room-mates make me do it. I'm practically their captive.

What's more, I have a condition OK. I'm anxious, nervous and angry and while I think pissing along the wall in the front hall is perfectly normal, my roomies disagree. (How else are intruders supposed to know they've crossed a line into my territory?)

I am sooooo not a drug addict though; so much so that there is an entire contrived process involved in giving me my dose. Photo evidence is provided below:

1. Tools of the trade: bottle of pills, syringe, meaty hands to hold me down

2. The Torment: being held against my will, I know what's coming next

3. Delivery: I am forced to consume the pill and it is washed down my throat by a blast of water from a syringe

4. No Credit: treating me like a moron, they feed me treats hoping I'll forget the whole ordeal happened;

I never will. Never.

If I was a drug addict, would such an arduous process be required to force me to take my daily dose? Would it? No! So that means I'm not an addict.

In sum, the only drug addled crack-head/crack-whore/astronaut around here has got to be "yo' momma!"...

(In all honesty, I don't even know why that "yo' momma!" thing is supposed to be funny, it's a skit on a CD I listen to and it just seemed fitting.)