Some of us are norepinepherine addicts. We long for love. Or shall I say, we long for longing. The carrot on a stick. We follow the illusion to keep it out of reach. How many people have gotten what they wanted to their utter disappointment? The rationale is I was mistaken, this is not it.
We can't stand the satisfaction. It kills the high. When we run on norepinepherine it's a long ride. Getting off kills the buzz. We long because longing is where the adrenaline is. I've heard that the worst thing that can happen is to have your dreams come true. It sounds absurd until you've tried it — ask lottery winners. It typically destroys their lives. Ground is so important. We'll do anything to get back to it. We’re fundamentally built from the ground up.
We learn our taste for longing by discounting elusive people growing up. We follow our leaders. We beat to their rhythm searching for clues on how love is given. Chase me, don't catch me. Keep me on the hook. How many of us have left someone because they loved us? The unrequited is how we treat ourselves. We learn to discount the genuine. We fight to stay afloat even when we're buoyant.
The craving brain wires for more highs. We develop a taste for dissatisfaction. It becomes a way of life. Longing seems rational to no one but you. Your friends look on in amazement. That's when you're not secretive. It's usually a best kept secret, best shared alone. Longing hates to be interrupted.
Addiction is defined as an allergy of the body, a compulsion of the mind. We always have chemistry. The question is, "What kind?" How well do we handle being well? For some of us, it's an acquired taste. Well-being is not a first choice, it's not high enough, not low enough. Longing is a horseless rider going nowhere, spiraling in circles of stagnation. There's safety in the known. It tranquilizes us. We argue for our limitations: they're our oldest friends.