I just can't stop doing it

Cutting down trees.
That's it.
I'm addicted.
This morning I go out to meet my new friend Shozeena. She's wonderful, she can't speak, and I think that's what makes her so wonderful, she doesn't EVER interrupt what I'm saying.
So, anyway, I'm all dressed in my finery, blue smock, tap-shoes, deadly shade of pink lip-gloss (just a touch) and I'm walking down one of the many hills in Edinburgh, which is where she lives (Gosh! You should see that bumpy old city, it's nothing like home at all.) and I see this tree. And it's sweet, it really is. It's just beginning to flower and people who pass it by probably don't notice it, but if they did they'd think about getting married and having their photos done under that tree, or if they were already married they might remember times from their childhood playing in the dappled sunlight, climbing every tender branch of a different, but similar tree from back home. But me? I just get this itch inside, like something's got to happen and I can't help it. I go over and I get out my penknife and I hack a branch off, then another one, then eventually I work my way down to the thing...the main bit what's it called?...the TRUNK! That's it. The trunk. And I slice it and it takes me ages, but eventually I get that F**ker down and it's mine. Forever. No more weddings, no more childhood memories.
I know it's bad, but I can't help myself.
I need help!

Bye

Mxxxx

Phil