Cold Turkey
Short Story by Thomas J. Misuraca
If you enjoy this feature and would like to see more, let me know with a comment, 💌 share, ♥️ like, or better yet, a 🔄 restack!
You can purchase Written Tales Magazine in print or digital, or become a paid subscriber and download your favorite editions. To view our upcoming stories & poems, please visit our publishing schedule calendar.
Bryan Ferry sings that love is a drug. Like all drugs, it’s addictive and took a toll on my life. My addiction cost me my friends, family and individuality. It’s time to put an end to it.
I’ve quit love. Cold turkey.
I never wanted romance in the first place. Never craved it. Until one day, I felt that chemical reaction with a stranger. Fireworks ripple through my nervous system. I was excited and energetic. Euphoria. One taste, and I was hooked.
It was all I thought about. Counted the minutes until I got my next fix.
My first supplier had primo stuff. I got it morning, noon and night.
And then… they cut me off.
I crashed. Hard.
I ran from person to person, but couldn't recapture the feelings.
Each time I thought I found a reliable supplier, it wasn't the same. The buzz wore off too quickly.
The obsession turned my life into a roller coaster of highs and lows. The lows getting lower.
It was time to sober up.
Every morning’s a struggle. My body feels like lead. My head’s weighed down with negative thoughts.
It takes all my strength to pull myself out of bed and attempt to start my day.
I can’t even look at myself in the mirror. I’m not sure who that person is. They look old and ugly. Messy hair. Their bloodshot eyes are circled in black. Lips dry from an unquenchable thirst.
There’s been an abundance of watery discharge from my eyes during withdrawal.
It happens most when I find paraphernalia my former supplier left behind.
Around me are so many temptations. A sideways glance or sweet smile could lure me back down that dark path.
My sleep pattern is erratic. If I fall asleep, after forever tossing and turning, I wake a few hours later, drenched in sweat. Jumbled thoughts keep me from drifting off again, so I get up and pace the floor. The idiocy of late-night television distracts me from the storm inside my head.
I’ve no patience for people. I snap at everybody. Friends and strangers.
I can’t get love off my mind. I want it. I need it.
I call exes to see if I can score. Just enough to get me through the next couple of days. Then I’ll quit again, honest.
My appetite may never return. I make myself dinner and only eat a few bites. My stomach twists and turns.
Back then, I consumed everything. Not caring about calories or health issues.
Now the garbage disposal devours more than I do.
Ashley offers a quick fix and I give in to temptation.
Together we experience a night of euphoria.
But in the morning, I feel worse.
I’ve fallen off the wagon. All I can do is crawl back on.
The cravings are insatiable.
Then, one day, I don’t think about the next fix first thing in the morning.
Love has finally washed out of my system. I am clean. A strict regiment of time has healed my wounds. There is so much more out there than love.
But temptation lurks around every corner.
Tom Misuraca studied Writing, Publishing, and Literature at Emerson College in his hometown of Boston before moving to Los Angeles. Over 130 of his short stories and two novels have been published. His story, Giving Up The Ghosts, was published in Constellations Journal and nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021.