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"You're just a ghost of blissful feelings..."

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Sobriety is a dirty little temptress with muted desires and hidden wants.

It's a lie. No one's ever really sober. We all have our addictions that get us through quick days and endless nights. Some addictions are less life threatening than others but that doesn't change the symptoms. People are addicted to online shopping, listening to music, lying, drinking. Whether you're addicted to getting your nails done every week or snorting a line every morning, there's always a common fact in each.

You see, whether you're talking about it or not, you're still thinking about it. The thoughts of what you want swing in your head like a pendulum. Back and forth, you picture what you want even when you don't know it. You think about what cute color would make your fingers look slimmer and appealing just like others think about the rush that fills in their veins the second that white powder travels through their nose.

But because some of us have morals, we push those thoughts to the side. We try and move on with our days, trying to distract ourselves from what our inner desires want.

We try and stay sober in hopes of masking our sanity with fake smiles and an easy life.

It's all a lie.

The addict's still there. Mine is still alive just as well as yours. They may not look or act the same, but that doesn't make it any less true. Each of us has an animal inside us, and it's our choice if we feed it or starve it. My addict has already been fed once, but just like the greedy asshole she is, she waits for more. But for now, she sits shackled in the corner with a muzzle over her face.

I choose not to feed her even though sobriety is a joke.

"You're just as bad as the Gallaghers," A high pitched voice scratched at my ears through my dreams, "Always sleeping and never doing shit."

I opened my eyes to find Sammi, Frank's eldest daughter, leaning over me with a box in her hands. Her thin blonde hair was rustled while the bags under her eyes hung like ornaments on her pale face. "The fuck you want, Sammi?" I said in an aggravated tone while I pulled my blankets over my head.

"Not that you care or anything, but I'm moving out." My interest peaked as I pushed my blankets back down, "After the betrayal last night from my own blood, I've decided to leave this crack house and find my own place."

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up. My annoyance was running on high due to the time of day and the lack of caffeine in my blood. "Congratulations. Now, why do I give a fuck?"

"Don't touch my shit, hoodrat." She seethed through her teeth, "They probably let that shit slide in rehab, but you're in the real world now. I won't hesitate to shoot you if I see your crack addict fingers on my stuff."

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