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So, after a week off, I felt as though I had been sufficiently weaned off of his crack-like aura. Save your disapproving head shakes because I’m quite sure you know exactly what I mean.... He's quite addictive.

I'd gotten so used to seeing him in the mornings that I'd started being both disappointed and concerned if I didn’t see him. I bet you think that's sweet huh? Romantics say aye and skeptics... well skeptics just don't say a damn thing! Before you start, yes, I recognize the slightly disturbing nature of my admission. And, since I knew I wouldn't have the guts to do something about the feeling, I was glad when that week off came round.

So really, there isn't anything actually wrong with me, just because I too have succumbed to the same feeling.... But, like I said, I was glad when I had a week off to wean myself off him.

An addiction is maintained by three things: familiarity, ritual and an anticipation for the end rush- not necessarily in that order. I had become accustomed to a certain order of things. The excitement of possibility, whether I would actually see him, whether we would actually share the same journey, whether I would actually be brave enough to look him in the eye and finally smile. The ritual of boarding, selecting a seat and sitting in silence, too scared to look in his direction- much less look at him and smile, giving him a quick glance goodbye as I disembark the double-decker, and shaking my head in awe and wonderment, as once again the illusive end rush has escaped my grasp.

So like I said ,I was glad for the week off because come Monday I no longer cared whether I saw him or not. I was just happy to go about my day. And go about my day I did. However by Tuesday the feenin’ returned, along with him and the addiction begins again.

Who needs rehab when the addiction is so harmless?

Onyx Knight