What constitutes an addiction?

Is it that initial rush at just the thought of it? And now it’s in your mind, you have to have it? Is it the desire – almost like a horrendously burning itch that just needs to be scratched?

Is it the constant and incessant rationalising of your actions every time you indulge to persuade yourself – and everyone around you – that it’s absolutely desperately needed? That you simply have to have it. Without question. Like water. Like air.

Is it that feeling of absolute euphoria the minute you get your fix? The rush that sends you so deliriously happy that you’re dizzy and flushed with the ecstasy? Is it when your heart races at what feels like a hundred-thousand-beats per minute as soon as you have what you desire…?

And then it’s gone.

And then you need it again.

You lose sleep over it. You dream about it. You conjure up crafty plans and muse over every conceivable way by which you can obtain it.

The mere thought of it can have you salivating. As though you’ve been presented with a mouthwatering meal and you haven’t eaten for days. And you can’t think about anything until you have it. And if you can’t have it, it’s like a hunger, a starvation. Ravenous. A hollow pain in your stomach like an echo of a punch. And it doesn’t go.

It doesn’t fade..but it can be replaced by something else. Something even better and you can’t shake it. You have to have it. Being without it is painful. The feeling of famine needs to be fed. And when it’s not, you can’t stop thinking about it. It can make you delirious. Climbing walls. Clenching teeth. Scratching at skin. It’s everywhere.You can’t escape it because something inside you seeks it out. Like a starving wild animal stalking its prey, foaming at the mouth.

And if you dare to have the mere thought of the sheer bliss you can experience when you finally get it: that ultimate moment that causes colours to explode in your mind and a tuneful melody to drown you and block out everything but you and it.

The choice, the  vivid blur of colours that sends the room spinning, the smells, the luxury, the textures, the crisp sound of the tissue paper as it’s unfolded in the box, the smile of the assistant, the feel of the plastic, the soft cotton that slides so easily into the sharp paper bag, the touch of the soft leather as it slides onto your foot, excitedly peering into the closed packaging on the way home, peeling of the label when it’s finally yours. The feeling that, for just that moment, everything will be alright. Because it has to be.

But surely that’s not an addiction, right?

Doesn’t everyone feel like that about shopping?