No Longer Human ( PDFDrive )

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forget how weak my body was, and I applied myself
energetically to my cartoons. Sometimes I would burst
out laughing even while I was drawing.
I had intended to take one shot a day, but it became
two, then three; when it reached four I could
no longer work unless I had my shots.
All I needed was the woman at the pharmacy to
admonish me, saying how dreadful it would be if I
became an addict, for me to feel that I had already
become a fairly confirmed addict. (I am very susceptible
to other people's suggestions. When people say to
me, "You really shouldn't spend this money, but I
suppose you will anyway ..." I have the strange illusion
that I would be going against expectations and
somehow doing wrong unless I spent it. I invariably
spend all the money immediately.) My uneasiness
over having become an addict actually made me seek
more of the drug.
"I beg you! One more box. I promise I'll pay you
at the end of the month."
"You can pay the bill any old time as far as I'm
concerned, but the police are very troublesome, you
know."
Something impure, dark, reeking of the shady
character always hovers about me.
"I beg you! Tell them something or other, put
them off the track. Ill give you a kiss."