Letter to myself:

Dear Sex Addict,

I can’t believe you never let me do anything else when there is a spare moment and I am alone. At 4 in the morning when I randomly wake up, you are there, haunting me to get on the computer and slip in a little sin, like it ‘s a little fun joke, some innocent fun. You have blunted my idea of sin so much that I see porn and think that it is just a drug I need to deal with, rather then a sin I need to cut off for the sake of my eternity! I can’t believe you are making me take God’s love and grace and mercy for granted that it will be there to life me up after I am done getting a fix, like forgiveness is automatically mine! A man–Christ–died on a hill to save me, and I take that for granted before your sway. You have corrupted my way of seeing women so that now I check them out and can’t keep my eyes off their body and breasts, and you have me thinking more about touching them and feeling them than about connecting with them through their eyes as I talk with them. You have made me want to have sex more and more, but have sharpened the physical hunger for it yet have made it something that is strictly physical and solitary with a visual twist to it, but not something to be shared with my future spouse. The word virgin is a joke applied to me, barely contained because I never touched a woman. You have made illicitly so desirable that the idea of hiring a prostitute is more exciting than getting anywhere with any of the girls around me…maybe because they are real and present and not an intangible idea of pleasure. But no more. That will end today. I am never meant to grapple with you to death, but to keep my balance on top of you with my foot on your neck. We are going to be real with people, my brother, my mom, my love. Because of you I have to tell my wife that I have looked at many women have sex over the years, and almost always with other women so that I want to see her with another woman, which is not holy. I am going on a thirty day fast from you, and at the end of it, I will have succeeded, not like every other time with you. My body, sex, purity, penis are not for you to use to your own amusement. We are through.

Letter from my sex addict:

I can’t believe that you kept up with me all this time, from a fourteen year old boy experimenting with masturbation in bed because he read about it in a book. Curious about sin, that is why you first looked at porn, because you were reading. You liked sex, and were pure, and now I’ve got a grip on you that will keep dragging you down into the filth and dirty water over you before you can come up for air. I got a grip on your neck to bring you down with. I am laughing at you in scorn. But that is you got God with you, don’t you know? That is why you can beat me and will beat me–I am just reigning here for as long as I can get away with it before you realize you have the authority to spurn me and to command me hence, to send me away exiled from your presence forever until Ragnarok when I will come to accuse you but will fail before your love from God bestowed on you.