Hello there,

I'm writing to you as an old friend. You and I have shared quite a bit of history together: wild times, crazy behaviors-and even long periods of time you can't even remember! During the most important events and celebrations of your life, I was there with you. And even when you were desperately alone, I was there with you, too. That's real friendship, isn't it?

I'm writing because I'm worried about you, and I have reason to be. After all, I know you better than anyone else in your life. I know you're weak when it comes to self-discipline. You lack the capacity to follow through on promises. You have no willpower. You make grand plans and earnest declarations when other people see you as I see you. You swear you'll be different, that you'll change. In fact, you even promise that you'll cut me out of your life completely!

Is that any way to treat a friend like me? I'm your most dependable source of comfort. I'm the one who makes you feel so good. I'm the one you'll beg, bargain or steal to be close to.

If you haven't recognized me by now, I'm your addiction. I have given you all these things: comfort, solace, freedom from pain and fear. And because I have the power to give you those feelings, I have the power to take them all away.

I guess my secret is out. I actually enjoy watching you suffer, whether it's any one of the multitude of indignities you've been through, or the soul-wrenching pain of seeing all the things you hold dear as they slowly slipping through your grasp. And you make it so easy for me! Even after I've laughed behind your back over your latest failing, you still come back to me-giving me another delicious opportunity to watch you wallow in torment.

Many have tried to break off their friendships with me, but few succeed. Those are the ones I hate most:
People who were once bloated with ego and pride, who now admit their own powerlessness.
• Those who used to scoff at religion, yet now embrace a Higher Power.
• Simpletons who reach out to help another when they could be so joyously wrapped up in their own affairs.
• Men and women, young and old, straight and gay, of every color, whom I succeed in knocking down again and again, and still they get back to their feet, walk into a room full of others and say 'I'm an alcoholic" or 'I'm an addict."
These people vex me. I was once able to control their every mood, thought and action. But today I can't break through. Still, I have hope. In another 24 hours, I'll try again.