Creatures of habit

I try to break the habit, but when I do, I find no solace, no peace, nothing I was hoping or expecting to find. I've become addicted to the search I think. Experimenting. Trying it on for size, so to speak. In the end, what works is the same old, same old that always worked.

In search of a feeling or a sequence of feelings or trying to recapture a sentiment and situation that existed so long ago.

Judging myself, while no one else does, trying to be the ideal, but for who's sake?

It weighs on me, it clouds me, it feels more like affliction than addiction.