Dark. Shallow.

Christ, why do I continue bidding on large lots of Twilight Zone Magazines on eBay? It always ends in disaster. Case in point: today's auction, detailed (rather enthusiastically) in my previous entry. Yes, I've been victimized once again in the final seconds of yet another auction. This is the third time in as many weeks. I spent my day glowing with the prospect of completing my collection, and now I'm spending my evening glowing with several consolatory shots of Bushmills Irish Whiskey. Each swallow burns a little less than the last, and each swallow blurs the edges just a bit more.

I'm not even angry, as I was after the previous eBay defeats. I'm just.... I don't even know if sad is the right word. I'm filled with weary resignation. The OCD Monkey in my head has spun himself into such a frenzy that he's rendered himself unconscious, and I'm left to my own pathetic devices. And so I drink.

I know how I sound. People are suffering --- actually suffering --- all around the world. Someone in my own town is starving right now. Someone else, weeping over some incalculable loss. Someone else, breathing their last breath. Me? I lost a fucking auction for some magazines. How small a person I must be to dwell on matters of such little import, to feel sorry for myself over this.

And yet, I do. I want every issue of this god-damned magazine, and I can't be at peace until I have them. I have a problem. You don't have to tell me. I'm well aware.

Funny. I talk of the "joy of acquisition," and how much fun I'm having collecting these magazines, and it's true --- it really is, despite my current depression. Another six issues arrived in today's mail, and I was ecstatic as I opened the box... but then my attention returned to the auction, and those six beautiful, near-mint-condition issues sat across the room, nearly forgotten. What's wrong with this picture? I need to train myself to make the joy last beyond the acquisition. The acquisition should be a means to an end, nothing more. The ownership should be the source of the joy. I should be delighting in the fact that I've collected 35 issues in just under three weeks. Hell, I should be reading the damn things!

So great, I've got it all figured out. But how the hell do I rewire my brain to incorporate this new understanding? How do I tame my OCD Monkey?

Medication? Acupuncture?

Hypnotherapy?