I am a compulsive man. My wife tells me that I am always taking something in. Through my mouth, eyes and ears. Continually consuming. Mouth: weed, booze, food, sweets, fruit, kombucha. Eyes: reading, naked women, smartphone. Ears: music, radio, podcasts. My wife tells me that I am not comfortable in my own skin. That I can not just be with myself. I think she is right even though I feel myself that I consume things to enhance my experience of life. I like how weed and booze makes me feel. They enhance my life. I love reading and consuming various ideas. I love listening to strange sounds and creative thoughts materialized as music. But maybe I am uncomfortable in my own skin. I can not seem to just be with myself. I am always compulsively thinking about something I want to consume. Compulsively consuming something. Books, records, sex, intoxicants, sweets, apps on my smartphone, photos and on and on. It is constant. If my wife only knew how compulsively I think about these things. Maybe I am an addict? Can one be addicted to reading books and listening to music? I know no one else who consumes books, sex and music like I do. This makes me feel abnormal in my behaviors. Maybe I am seeking out immediate gratification all the time. Maybe I do this because I am uncomfortable in my skin. The present moment normally feels like shit. Filled with anger, anxiety, dread or boredom. So it is natural that I would want escape. But I have many unfinished projects. Many unfinished novels, graphic, novels, short stories, a non-fiction book and drawings. All continually unfinished. Carrying around the burden of all my unfinished projects is a drag. A nag. But maybe it is my compulsive behaviors that prevents me from doing the work I need to be doing. I read instead of write. I listen to music instead of editing manuscripts. I thinking about kidnapping a woman and making her my sex slave instead of working on intimacy and connection with my wife. I go to sex clubs and strip clubs instead of making things more erotic with my wife. I send my wife off to have kinky encounters with other men instead of having kinky encounters with her. I look for women to meet and have sex with. Always hunting for someone or some sexual expereince. Always. Already today I have thought about wanting to find a way to have sex with various women this evening. Maybe I will go to a strip club? Maybe I will find somebody on Bumble? My wife and I should be more sexually deviant. She needs to have sex with her lover more often. Needs to do more kinky things. Needs to step it up and have sex with different men regularly. I thought about all of this before 9am. This kind of compulsivity can’t be healthy. Maybe it is. I do not know because I know no one else who is compulsive in this way. Maybe I am just very creative and have a very active imagination. Maybe I am just a genius and need to feed my soul and mind with creative and taboo ideas continually. But another part of me feels that this preoccupation with sex, with reading, with listening to music is escape. I am trying to escape my present moment condition. I am trying to escape the hard work of sitting down and finishing my unfinished projects. I want the high of immediate gratification. Give it to me now! I want to feel gratified right now! Through a book. Through music. Through sexual experience or thoughts about sexual experience. Through food. Through Instagram. Through ruminating. Through weed. Through booze. Maybe I am all about immediate gratification and this is why all of my projects remain undone. These projects require delayed gratification and obviously I am struggling with that. Maybe I am a serious addict. This is addict behavior. Just because I am not into hard drugs and homeless does not mean I am not an addict. Because I am financially well-off and a psychologist no one sees my behavior as that of an addict. I hide it well. But maybe I am an addict and my addictive behavior is keeping me from living the life I want to be living. Because I am not living the life I want to be living I engage in all these immediate gratifications to make myself feel better. To medicate the pain and anxiety away. But then I never finish the projects that I need to get done in order to start living the kind of life I want to be living. What life do I want to be living?