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Addiction

The daughter is addicted to perfection, the idea that if the pages are straight and

the highlighting is following a pattern, true happiness and satisfaction can be achieved.
That is her hair is perfectly straightened and the lipstick is perfectly inside the lines that
the rest of her life is organized like the straight pages in her binder.
The son is addicted to popularity, the idea that if he is circled by friends then
everything will be okay.
That if he has to sit by himself he will fall into a sea of self doubt and self hatred that he
is too worthless to not be liked by everyone.
That if he is left alone for one minute then he will be forced to be with himself, his worst
enemy.
The mother is addicted to worrying, the idea that if her children don't come out of
school on time that they are dirtying their reputation by sitting in detention.
That if she stays up all night, even with their doors locked that she will find her son
passed out on the floor.
That if they don't follow a specific routine, the balance with chaos on one side and
peace on the other will tilt to one side.
The father is addicted to lying, the idea that if his wife knows he was at the bar
instead of work, she will end up in cardiac arrest.
That if his children knew just how little he was making that they would lose trust in the
man that taught them how to walk and ride a bike.
That if he tells them where he really was he would be locked out of the house and
spend the night on the cold, hard leather seats of the family minivan.
The family is addicted to staying together.
They know they are hanging on to the last thread of the scarf tying them all to each
other.
They know that if one of them were to admit to their addiction that their lives would
crumble into a fine dust.




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