What I Didn 't Get A Habit Or Addiction?

The sound thundered through my ears. The ground shook beneath my feet and it felt like I was floating on it. Then another flash like lightning and that ground-shaking, deafening noise again” As you can probably tell, this is where the village is being bombed.

As my car climbed the hill, my heart sunk into my stomach. I parked as far away from my friends as I could and quickly exited the car, not once looking at them. Now it was every man for himself. Emerging into the open air, I suddenly became aware of myself. I could feel my puffy, blood-shot eyes. My palms became slimy. My fingers clinched into a fist and my nails dug into my skin. My sight blurred and my tunnel of vision tried to focus on the front door. Every step seemed more awkward than the last. Eyes pierced me from all sides. I felt naked. My body trembled like a sheep in the midst of wolves.

everything began to appear as a misty haze. The last thing I remember is hitting my head off of

Gambling addiction also know as compulsive gambling is a type of impulse control disorder. (Healthyplace.com, 2008) It is a progressive disease that can wreck havoc on relationships, work, and finances.

Addiction can be separated into three categories: mind (neurological), body (physical), and spirit (psychological). Within in this breakdown addiction can possibly be explained and properly understood.

You felt your knee raise itself unconsciously as it climbed onto the window sill, you leaned outward. It was like breathing in clarity, like everything became so clear to you: you were on the third floor of some rotten hotel about to kill yourself. You needed to make this count. You felt you stomach rage uncertainly, beckoning the question on whether or not you wanted this. You inwardly told your body sorry for wasting it. You hoped your body could be still put up for organ harvesting for those who needed it. You were sorry to the organs who wouldn't get that

The ruins is more of a correct term. From where they were it was just piles of rubble. Most of the roads were completely destroyed. Shells of cars were everywhere. They weren’t even there yet and the damage was so bad.The chances for survivors were minuscule. The chances they would come out without some sort of serious damage even more so. Quietly Montag spoke to himself, mumbling what had happened to Millie and everyone else that was just there, a few days ago. “Looks like you weren’t the only one that gave this city ashes Montag.” Granger jokes. “It seems i’m not the only one. Everything is gone.” Montag said shallowly. Even though this city was the same city that tried to kill him. It was all he knew. They would begin the search tomorrow. They were doubtful, yet they knew that if there were survivors, they would be needed more than ever. They sat and talked outside the city till dusk. Quietly they all settled down by a fire. They turned on the little screen to watch and see the reaction of the nation. “War has begun! Cites are being bombed left and right. So far Detroit, New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and New Orleans have fallen victim to these attacks! Never fear

The main theme of this book is how everyone in the city works hard in order to survive every day of the siege. The men on the hills and the ongoing war have thrown everyone’s lives into utter chaos. In the first chapter, the following quotation is repeated three times: “It screamed downward, splitting air and sky without effort. A target expanded in size, brought into focus by time and velocity. There was a moment before impact that was the last instant of things as they were. Then the visible world exploded” (Galloway 1, 3, 6). These two quotations serve as a connection to the beginning of the war and how a single mortar shell transforms the lives of tens of thousands of people.

“AHHH!” I screeched. My voice echoed and I crumpled to the floor. As I lay on the ground, a smell seemed to enter and toxicate the air. I didn’t run, I didn’t fight the urge to fall asleep, I didn’t care if I died right there and then. In my mind I had already died, and my spirit was still back in bed dreaming of nothing important. I was just a body, a body waiting to meet the horror of this white prison. As I lay crying and beginning to holsinate another wave of white washed over me.

The rising sun was orient in the blue sky. Dewdrops sparkle in the morning sun. Someone patted me on the back. The man whipped out a knife. He was a fat clumsy and dirty looking man. His hair had been badly cut and the ends were uneven. The sight made me stop dead in my tracks. Fear stole into my heart. He cowed me with his threats. The smell of smoke clung to his clothes.On the one hand, he had pressed and held both my hands. On the other hand, he continually stroked my body. He just bear down on me with all his strength so I was unable to repel and move. The rough cloth pricked my skin.Then I just lost it and started screaming. "Stop it !" I bellowed at him. My word made no impression on him. No one was on the scene at the time. Why he did it? What was his intention in doing that? How could this happen to me? Why should it be me? After that, every step I took sent the pain shooting up my thighs. I could not breathe. As I straightened up, the ache in my back grew worse. I bore the pain without a word of complaint. I thought it would

Addiction is like all behaviours “the business of the brain”. Addictions are compulsive physical and psychological needs from habit-forming sustenances like nicotine, alcohol, and drugs. Being occupied with or involved in such activities, leads a person who uses them again and again to become tolerant and dependent eventually experiencing withdrawal. (Molintas, 2006).

When the shrapnel lay still on the ground and a deafening silence filled the broken buildings, the people of Jarnac-sur-Bresle sat wordless in their place. Fear and shock bound their lips shut, and the occasional child who began to cry would go ignored until, slowly, his or her parents began melting back into reality. Picking up the pieces, the townsfolk foraged piles of rubble for photographs, family heirlooms, whatever else might be left.

I opened my eyes, the vertigo slowly slipping away as I blinking myself into full consciousness. A bright surgical light blinded me from above.

It started with a chill, each vertebrae vibrating one by one up my spine. Then the heat, my face flush and palms clammy. I could never keep up with my breathing, for it seemed as though each time I breathed out, I needed more air almost immediately. Soon, my mind was flooded with unsettling images, a new one appearing nearly every second, each worse than the last. Everything that I found comfort in was now an enemy. When will this end? My body could not keep up with the trembles and I could not resist the urge to scream. Was this room always so small? My eyes grew indecisive, darting across the room, until the capillaries within them bulged so greatly that I clenched my eyelids shut. Then, a long, deep breath.

The howling of the wind brought my eyes to open. Where was I? Focusing in the dark of night, confusion washed over me as I came to realize I was in the desert. Distant landscapes of dry and worn rock surrounded me, and beneath my bare feet I felt the gritty sand caught between my toes. I was surrounded by those rocky hills and yet as I scanned the desolate desert it seemed never ending. The irony of the nighttime desert suddenly set into my body; that ghastly wind moving right through me and chilling my bones to that of splintering ice. The need to move started me forward though, and I felt a sharp ache all over, my body trying to fight against change. Was I lost? My heart began pounding fast in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins