[Intro | silence | then very low ambient tone | 8–12 seconds] [Spoken Word | male | steady | restrained] For a long time, this story belonged to me. My reasons. My fear. My justifications. But addiction never stays contained. It moves outward. Quietly. Into the people closest to you. They see what you don’t. They feel what you won’t. And they carry it longer than you realize. Sometimes, they don’t yell. They don’t threaten. They don’t try to fix you. Sometimes, they just tell you the truth. [Pause | silence] The words that finally reached me didn’t come from a stranger. They came from my sixteen-year-old daughter. [Pause | longer silence] I will always love you, but I don't respect you. [Outro | silence | no resolution | 6–10 seconds]
