The Ism and the Alcohol
A year and a half ago, I published my first essay on addiction. You’d think having gotten sober at age seventeen would have been fodder…
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The Morning After
Paper gown and stirrups, white walls and a tray of gleaming tools: he held the syringe over me and said, “It’s a special kind of anesthetic…
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The Trip Inside
Warm summer night, window open, leaves cutting the streetlight into pieces that flickered across the bedroom floor. We lay on top of the sheets…
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