This is my own problem. I knew I couldn’t fight it on my own, and that one day it’d consume me, but I just couldn’t let go. My brain said stop, but my heart said no. I kept going on and on until I got caught. And then my world collapsed.

I was introduced to this new adventure by a friend of mine. He said it was exhilarating and that I would enjoy it immensely. He showed me the ropes of how to live a smart and fun life instead of a hard and dull one. After this instruction, I clung to this new development in me. It was something new I’ve never experienced. My first time was like a feeling of great euphoria that I never wanted to end. It was like a drug that I could never get off of. It was just simply amazing.

He had mastered the art a long time ago, for he had been doing this for years. He targets something of medium worth, glances around to make sure no employees or cameras are around, and then quietly stuffs the merchandise into his inner pocket. He seemed so at ease and unworried as he strode out of the store, never betraying his actions. It was deceptively simple.

I was invited to give it a shot. He suggested I start off with something small, something to merely get my feet wet. At first I was hesitant; wasn’t all this illegal? He broke into laughter, and between his gasps for air, he managed to sputter out, My god… no… If you get caught… they just… make you… pay for it… No harm done. When he regained his composure, he gave me an inviting smile.

I really didn’t think much of it. If he said that was the only consequence, then there’s no harm done right? And that was only if you got caught. He had never been caught, and because of that, I falsely had a sense of superiority, that the system was too incompetent to be able to catch me. After my first run, I totally enraptured by the feeling of ecstasy that came with the successful action. My reward for that trip was the bag of sweets that I was able to leave with. What a deliciously sweet feeling.

It didn’t take me long to learn how to walk, and before long, I was running at full speed. Everywhere I looked, the retail price was just a joke to me. Besides it being something I would never pay full price for, I just saw it as another challenge for me to tackle. I was on a gigantic win streak, and nothing could go wrong. Week after week, day after day, every store I went into would probably have some trouble doing inventory that night. Is it my fault that the world we live in is a capitalist society that takes advantage of its consumers? I’m just trying to level the playing field while immensely enjoying myself.

I’ll never forget the day all this ended. The culprit? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Looking back on hindsight, I still don’t have a clue as to how it happened. It seemed like any other perfect day for action. I knew what I had to do and I knew how to do it. The added bonus of the largest book release in years only added another layer of security to my fool-proof plan. At least I thought it was fool-proof.

There were hundreds of people walking in and out of the bookstore, all jostling to get their hands on the newest and soon-to-be New York Times’ bestseller. I blended in and mingled with the crowd, pretending to share their obsessive enthusiasm for the behemoth of a novel. I picked up a copy and simply made my way towards the exit. No sensors went off and I thought I was home free. Another successful job.

Hey, excuse me sir, would you mind coming with me? The voice came from behind me, apparently out of nowhere. I turned around and all I saw was black. Black, the color of his suit. Black, the color of my future. The security guard led me to an office and proceeded to interrogate me. He wanted to know where my receipt was. Of course I didn’t have it. So I tried saying I merely forgot to pay for the book and would return to the store to do so right now. He wouldn’t let me.

Long story short, I had to pay full price for the book (book release price was nearly 50% cheaper), I had to pay a fee for shoplifting, and I was also banned for a year from the bookstore and the surrounding stores in the vicinity. My friend said the punishment for getting caught was so lenient that it wouldn’t bother me at all. So much for that.

During those long twelve months, I was constantly struggling to find some new sort of entertainment, something to help pass the time. The first few months were tough. I kept falling into withdrawal, and this feeling of regression constantly detracted me from my main objective focus. I was just so attached to it, I just didn’t know how to let go. As the days went by, time helped ease me off this addiction. Eventually, I stopped worrying or thinking about my kleptomania and was able to just be me again.

But then my ban was lifted and I was allowed back. And I guess, the adrenaline from the hunt never truly left my blood. Soon enough, I fell back into my wretched ways, and here I am again, deeply attached to this euphoric feeling that I never wish would leave me. I know I need to get out, because the next time I run into trouble, the consequences might be so much more dire…

05.05.08, 5.00-6.25pm

[Author’s note]: This is merely a fictional story with the “addiction of stealing” serving as symbolism for something else. I do not condone thievery in any situation, but this concept was the best fit for the purpose I wish it to serve.