What the cat dragged in

Wish I wasn't so good at making bad choices, would save me a whole lot of trouble. Making bad choices is like eating a gallon of ice cream. You know you'll regret it before, during, and even after consumption. Still, you find yourself reaching for it, can't stop your self from thinking about it. Scolding yourself while you're enjoying it. Maybe even moaning in the satisfaction of finally getting it. In that moment you wonder why you ever thought it was a good decision to go cold turkey. That is until realization bitches slaps you in the face upon it's departure. That, ladies and gents, is what makes my choices so damn poor. I know better but I never can get myself to act any better! What is it with pleasures of the guiltiest kind that are so irresistible? There must be some kind of fun I'm getting out of breaking rules I've made for myself. Must be. I can't be that illogical.

Fuck, I'm doomed.