The Curse

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Addictions are dangerously haunting. They control your emotions and warp your reason and guide you like a blind man's dog. They are a nightmare.

On the sixth day when God created man, He created man's neighbor's worst nightmare. Why? Because man is an addiction. Once you meet fellow humans, you can't live with out them. You're an empty shell when you have no one to talk to, and stunning scenery and amazing adventures mean nothing when you have no one to share them with. On a trip in Europe you might spend three months looking forward to a visit from them, spend your time with them wishing they would stay, and spend the rest of your trip after they leave aching for them to come back.

It'd be especially hard when you had a fantastic time with them, like if you happened to take a road trip through Bavaria, Germany, and to Prague with them. If they came bearing gifts: clothes, candy, cookies, cards, stovetop stuffing. If you went on tours and to concerts with them, if you got sick and lost with them, if you drove on train tracks and up stairs with them, and if you spent a week's wages shopping with them. If you visited Rothenburg, Salzburg, Oberammergau, Prague, and Munich (in the order of your agreed-upon preference), and also Nurnburg but that didn't make the Favorites List because it was so awful. But with people you love it'd be okay, because with friends, bad ideas make the best adventures.

Indeed, you'd be so attached that you would completely rework the schedule of the rest of your trip so that you could spend every last possible minute with them. You'd consider buying an impromptu plane ticket so that you could even go home with them.

An addiction. A killer addiction.

After a few days of moping, someone wise would suggest that you go home if you miss them so much, but you'd insist, No, you have to stick it out. For some reason you'd think that you were going to enjoy the last three weeks of your journey without company, as if you had enjoyed the first three months without it. You'd visit a cemetery in Zagreb, Croatia, and hold a mock funeral for your lost companions, forcing yourself to move on. You'd try to look forward to your next destinations, try to fill the hole in your chest with your grandpa's chocolate cookies, and try to ignore yourself counting the days until your flight home.

The next morning you'd wake up, walk to the computer, say a short prayer, and buy a plane ticket home.

Forget celebrating Christmas with the Pope, forget climbing a volcano in Greece, forget getting lost in the unburied streets of Pompeii: YOU'D BE GOING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.

!!!

After that you'd be floating on Cloud 9 all the way to Belgrade, Serbia, where you'd be hosted with lavish hospitality by the sister of your aunt. Her family would never let you be hungry, tired, or in the least bit uncomfortable, and every time you turned around they'd be offering you more gifts. You'd have the time of your life.

You might get a little stressed when someone in Eastern Europe hacked your credit company's database and both of your credit cards were consequently blocked, so you'd have 100€ to your name for the rest of your stay, but it would all be okay because your host family would set you up with Skype, and your dad and brother would make everything okay.

You'd be sad to leave your host family, to be on your own again, but you'd know that it'd be okay, because you were going home in one week. You'd be going home for Christmas.

Love,

Anna

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