Irish

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She adored praise—craved it, needed it, and realized she found relief only when she finally had it. She realized, too, that she felt about praise the way that addicts felt about opium. Each time she received a fresh infusion of flattery, she could think only about how to get more of it. Achievement was a high. Failure was worse than withdrawal.
Irish
Uh oh, this is not going to end well.
The Poppy War (The Poppy War, #1)
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