Is There a Twilight Saga Support Group?

I never before understood the concept of peer pressure. I've always danced to my own beat, and the popularity of a particular phenomenon is more inclined to make me shy away and be "above the influence." But with such esteemed ladies as these fine betches going all gaga over Twilight, I was intrigued. Now I remember why I always said to myself, back when I tried to recreate the 60s in my very own apartment: "no heroin. That's the line." I'd heard how addictive it could be, that just one hit would make you fiend for more.

Ladies and dudes: I believe Stephanie Meyer has somehow made the literary version of black tar heroin. And she's targeting YOUR ADOLESCENT CHILDREN.

It all started Saturday. An innocent trip to the bookstore. I saw the display for Twilight and surreptitiously slipped it under my arm, hiding the title. Sweating ever so slightly, I raced downstairs to the women''s issues section and bought a feminist book, as if this would somehow cancel out the YA goth romance in my armpit. It also occurred to me that, if I checked out downstairs in the more obscure part of the store, I would be safe from the disapproval of friends and acquaintances I might otherwise run into on the main floor.

I came home and set the book on my nightstand, my hands trembling. No, I told myself. Not yet. Finish your Carson McCullers novel. I did, tearing through the last 80 pages, trying to convince myself it was McCuller's smooth-as-butter Southern writing that made the last third of the book go by so quickly, but deep inside I knew...I wanted to try Twilight. Finally, Sunday night, I could wait no longer. I curled up with my new drug and sunk in How quickly, how easily I surrendered to its seductive darkness! I read until I could barely keep my eyes open, and awoke Monday immediately craving more. By that afternoon, I had finished my first Twilight Saga novel. I immediately panicked. When would my next fix be?

A friend — or should I say enabler? — drove me immediately to Barnes & Noble and goaded me into buying, not one, but all three remaining books in the series. I made the cashier double bag them. I tried to apologize for myself, and she assured me there was no shame in what I was doing. But I know better than to take what a pusher says at face value. I know it's wrong!

The second book, New Moon, was not nearly as sweet as the first hit. Heroin addicts call this "chasing the dragon." Even so, I devoured it, gave myself to it completely. I finished just before nightfall to look around me and find my house in shambles from neglect. I couldn't be bothered to care. I needed more. I ache for it even now, as I write this cry for help.

I don't know how to stop and, more importantly, I know it's only a matter of days before I will run out. I'm not sure I can bear the withdrawal. Can anyone save me?