Addiction
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Someone I love very much has a problem. An addiction problem. And I've known about it for quite some time, yet turned a blind eye. Sometimes we just don't want to admit the worst to ourselves.
This sweet person is kept up at night - yearning for the one thing she does not need. She will sneak, con, and manipulate in order to get her fix. She is "using" way more than she should be. It is starting to get out of hand.
That's right.
This sweet person is kept up at night - yearning for the one thing she does not need. She will sneak, con, and manipulate in order to get her fix. She is "using" way more than she should be. It is starting to get out of hand.
Hannah is addicted to Band-Aids. She will go through about ten Band-Aids in the course of four minutes. She combs her body, like a monkey searching for nits, hoping for any sign of a scratch that she can smother with Barbie's smiling face. It doesn't matter if it's a microscopic, healed wound - she must cover it up.
I cannot afford her expensive habits. It is time to cut her off.
The madness stops. Now.
If she can't quit cold-turkey, I'll have to get some Power Rangers Band-Aids. Surely, the thought of something boyish will help to quell the monster inside her.
The time has come for an intervention. Heaven help me when I take away the pink Barbie Band-Aids from the Princess.
Heaven help us all.
