An explosive introduction to A Lion Sleeps in the Heart of the Brave
It started with a handful of pills.
I waited, crying, chain smoking, absorbing every ounce of euphoria into my essence, begging, praying that it would stay. Stay with me for 30 days. I didn’t want to use. I didn’t want to be sober. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to live.
It ended with a handful of pills.
I left my body behind as the ghost of me stumbled, shaking, through the doors, blasted by sterility, the sharp aroma of clean. Did they do that on purpose? Make the place I had to stay smell “clean” while I got “clean?” To this day that smell triggers me to the core.
For 30 days, I hovered in the ethereal, watching as my specter endured a foreign, aseptic world. Words, readings, meetings, force feedings. Wandering halls to rooms filled with strangers, impelled to speak words that were hollow and insignificant…
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