It all starts when you wake up. You didn't get enough sleep. The alarm yanks you out of your brain. You were having a sex dream which was providing relief, but now you're frustrated that you have to get up to go to work. You're angry that you missed out on that wet dream. You don't have time to shower. You're running late so you don't eat and you resign to buy a coffee instead of making it at home. You smash your toes on the coffee table as you stumble to the door. You curse and scream and call yourself an idiot. You think about porn, about calling in sick and logging on to see if your favourite cam girl changed her hair colour. You still remember all the old passwords. But you stop yourself. You made a promise. Never again, you said.
But something is still missing as you drive to work. Fuck this traffic. Fuck the noise and the fumes and the punch clock. You're angry and you watch your hands turn white as you throttle the steering wheel. Why am I so fucking angry, you ask yourself. Oh, right, day 8 with no PMO. You've heard it gets easier. You're at a red light and you try a breathing exercise you heard about. You wonder about yoga, meditation, and exercise while internally mocking them all. You feel calm for a few seconds, the longest amount of time in days.
The woman who walks past your car smiles at you and consumes your thoughts. You smile back and feel your heart pounding as you dip into fantasy. Women never use to look at me like this! Superpowers, you tell yourself. Thanks NoFap! You tell yourself you're doing well and that you deserve that long desperate, hungry, panting, animalistic twenty second stare at her ass until the horns behind you remind you that the light has turned green. You curse the person behind you for taking away your one pleasure in over a week. And your hands tighten on the steering wheel again as you keep driving.
Same old shit at work. You realize it's only Thursday. You thought it was Friday. The seconds tick, and everything irritates you. The most exciting part of your day now that you're free from PMO is seeing some cleavage when your hot coworker leans over. You take a little hit from that look, just enough to take the edge off. Just enough to burn in to your mind the colour of her bra. Red. Like a NSFW tag. You remember the woman who walked past your car. You remember that ex-girlfriend who had a similar bra and the insatiable appetite and that one technique that always pushed you over the edge. Your mind turns to fantasy again as the hours tick by.
It's a shitty day at work. You have a headache from the coffee and lack of food and sleep. You barely dodge that NSFW post. You shake your head, remember your promise, and put your phone away. That was close! But as always your mind slips, back to the dream you were having when you woke up. You tell yourself you can't help it, its natural and harmless to fantasize. It soothes you a bit as you try to remember who it was in the dream. When you can't remember who it was, you alternate it as your ex-wife's sister, your coworker, your friend, your childhood friend's mother, ad infinitum. As long as you're not watching porn and masturbating, you tell yourself. You've heard it gets easier.
You block out whatever your boss is trying to tell you. Just have to make it to the weekend..And then what? What's so great about the weekend? You sit at home all day in your sweatpants and avoid PMO? You tell yourself you'll get to the gym, like you have for the last 5 days, and the pile of laundry gets bigger and bigger while the sunlight pours in your windows and shows all the dust floating around and the plates in the sink are Petri dishes and now you're depressed and heavy and grey inside and.... You snap back to reality and you realize you've only been at work for 4 hours...
You buy a shitty lunch from the cafe around the corner and you're twenty dollars down for the day while the food in your refrigerator rots. But it's all worth it because the hot barista with the glasses who wears her hair in that way that kills you gives you a big smile and you suddenly feel like a man again. Your chest puffs up. You give her a 5 dollar dip and she smiles and winks. You relish in all of the looks that women give you now that you're recovering from PMO. These superpowers are real!
Then why do you still feel like shit?
Oh well. Not every day can be great. Besides, you've heard it gets easier.
Back from lunch, avoiding work again. One more narrow escape from a NSFW post. You should change your settings. Block that stuff out for good. But you always hang on to that fail safe, like a junky with his multiple stashes. You shake your head at the comparison. At least you don't poison yourself! But that little NSFW tag burns in your mind.
Then it happens. The last straw. Your coworker's thong rises out of her pants and that male coworker you hate looks at you the wrong way and you hear people laughing and you're sure they're laughing at you and you realize you forgot to call your mother three weeks ago for her birthday and you finally take a little glimpse at that NSFW post just to make sure it's something you shouldn't look at and it's not that bad and you say it won't kill you to look a bit more and you leave twenty minutes early to beat the traffic rush and you're racing home and the billboard of the half naked woman makes your head spin and then you start to feel lonely and depressed and in need of comfort and you pull into your driveway and your hand is already on your belt as you fumble with your keys and you're inside and you're upstairs and your hand is in your pants and your heart aches and thumps and you feel guilty and relieved all at the same time and you remind yourself that it's only an eight day streak that you're relinquishing and you're at the computer logging on opening tabs consuming flesh and the sounds and sights of mindless sex and debauchery bombard your senses and you fall back down, down into oblivion.
And when you snap back in to your body, and close the 12 tabs and silently clean up the mess you made while your mind and body burst with rage and disappointment, you curse your addiction and everybody who lied to you. They told you it would get easier!
And one crushing thought dominates your mind:
"How does this always sneak up on me?"
Submitted April 06, 2017 at 10:56PM by PumpActionBronson http://ift.tt/2o1PKZE NoFap
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