Addiction in A Childhood Lost

I should not have brought chocolate into the house. At least, not a Dark chocolate almond bar. I seem to have increased resistance to chocolate chips- I also always get dark chocolate chips. But a bar. It’s just slowly disappearing throughout the day.

I’m seeing more and more ways that I have, indeed, always been a closet mystic.
It’s not just the feeling of guilt for betraying my own senses- which are a sacred and divine gift- but, also that growing up, I had this same sense and fear of being flaky
Yes, flaky. I have and have had a habit of preoccupation with things other than immediate material problems. I was always writing, or reading, or drawing. The other side of that equation is that I was hella intelligent. My IQ is still in the genius level, so I wager as a kid it was pretty much the same (IQ generally stays the same throughout life) and so my foundational preoccupation left very little time for me to absorb, regurgitate, and retain the redundant and idiotic curriculum that the public school had. There probably was quite a bit of a vicious cycle- school was mind-numbingly boring for any kid of average intelligence, and it would intrinsically drive them to do distraction. Still, like all intelligent kids, I found that grades were easy to keep up.
The difference between then and now in the flakiness; then I had some sense of it and didn’t care. And I really mean I didn’t care at all. You must imagine that I had access to a world that seemed far more interesting, and far more important to me. The silly shit that went on in front of me was just… fluff. It didn’t matter. I had the experience of living 2 distinct but equally real lives, growing up. In one, fantastic and otherworldly beings existed. In the other, violent, brutish hypocrites routinely tried to control, and punished me. Guess which one I actually cared about to filter my own opinions and thoughts through?
Now, I knew that I was flaky, or had some awareness of it. And yet, when I observed the clear-eyed kids with a concrete basis and some kind of skin in the game, they seemed dumb. They still do. What I mean is that, these kids really had motivation to try in school, to get good grades, to do well in sports, and to be on some kind of leadership activity.
No, I’m not saying that I was a cynical drop-out anti-government alternative whatever whatever. I still went through the motions. I played sports and did Honor Society. And I wasn’t exactly cynical about it. But I was also… not pretending that the teachers had any kind of earnest good will towards their students. It was completely obvious to me that they didn’t, and I considered it an utter betrayal of myself or… my perceptions and knowledge if I did pretend to believe that. So when other kids presented to me some kind of genuine belief, I had no reason to believe that they didn’t also have the same access to the experiences and perceptions that I did. I thought they were liars and couldn’t understand why anyone would betray themselves for… nothing. Literally nothing. I mean, maybe I could evaluate the calculating cunning of betrayal of oneself for wealth or power or… approval? But they were gaining nothing and none of it.
Ironically, I did learn that particular lesson.
Anywho, now, the flakiness that comes with preoccupation is a concern. It is a concern because I have young children who depend on me. I find that time flies by or it is incredibly slow… like I’ve spent hours somewhere only to find that 2 minutes have passed. And I forget stuff, obviously.