It's a dangerous addiction, the addiction to flattery. You are addicted to words, to attention, to the thought that someone is addicted to you. You try to go cold turkey, to reject that deep, inert need that starts in your stomach and ends in your blood stream, in your bones, as though it has been injected with a needle, but there is no use. You need to hear it again.
You are good. You can. You are beautiful. But it’s not just the words; it’s the way they’re delivered. It’s the sincerity in the eyes. The seriousness of the body language. The generosity in the voice, giving, delivering.
Sometimes, the withdrawal comes not by choice, but because the flattery has been stolen away. That’s when you really struggle. When you lie in bed at night, twisting and turning, a cold sweat across your forehead.
What did I do wrong? You think. Is it me? It must be you.
You wake the next day, and your clothes don’t fit you properly. Food is good for one thing only, and it’s not to curb hunger. It’s to make up for what’s been snatched from you.
You have bags under your eyes. They itch. Something is missing now. Everything is flat and empty. You have to get more, to find it elsewhere. You know it’s getting harder.
It’s a dangerous addiction, the addiction to flattery.
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