Gee whiz, how do I start this article without sounding like a weirdo? I guess I can’t. Sexuality is a part of human nature, but if you’re going to talk about it in public, you’re going to look like a weirdo. I get it, it’s cool.

But just so you know, I’m just a guy trying to be happy like everyone else.

I just want a nice job, a wife, and kids, and, I don’t know, maybe to take up yoga and bird watching as hobbies. I just want to be happy, but addiction certainty gets in the way of that. I used to smoke cigarettes and get drunk every weekend.

My drinking got to the point where I got punch-drunk every night and still drove home. I used to smoke pot every day and didn’t want to do anything without being so stoned that it made me anxious first.

I used to be overweight and had a drug problem, but then one day - I stopped. I spent a year living with my dad because my mom went to the Dominican Republic to help take care of her dying mother. I decided to stay with my dad to help keep him company and save money.

I just quit cold turkey. I was bored as hell in my hometown surrounded by reminders of my teenage angst – the thing that made me want to drink and party in the first place. To avoid going crazy, I went to the gym all day and read books all night.

I treated the year I spent with my dad like it was a prison. I came out of it a better man. I am a much happier and wiser human being, but one addiction still remains.

I’ve been watching porn since I was six years old. I misspelled the word six in a google search and the rest was history (it’s kind of funny when you think about it). This addiction isn’t as detrimental to my life as the others were, but it's still an addiction.

I have female friends and I go out and try to meet women like any other guy. Furthermore, it doesn’t take that much time out of my day. It’s the fact that I can’t go without it that bothers me.

Needing it makes me feel weak. I wonder why this last addiction is the hardest. Is it because I’m surrounded by beautiful women on social media and in real life?

Is my brain already too altered by sixteen years of use? Am I not strong enough to kick it cold turkey like I did everything else? One day I realized that I couldn’t keep looking for reasons as to why I couldn’t quit.

I should keep looking for a way out. I think the first step toward escape is admitting that you need to escape. It’s also admitting that you need help doing it.

This time I can’t go cold turkey, so I’m going to ask for help, even though it’s kind of an embarrassing thing to ask for help with. I don’t care anymore about being embarrassed, because embarrassment is nothing compared to being happy.