A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [34]
There is a set of shelves filled with books against one of the walls. I learned to read at a young age and I have always read voraciously. It is one of the few things, aside from getting fucked up and getting in trouble, that I have done consistently throughout my entire life. I am drawn to the books. I stand and I walk over to the shelves and I sit down in front of them.
There are three shelves with about forty books on each shelf. As I look through them, I am hoping for something that will take me away from here. I want and I need to get the fuck out of here for a while. If I can’t do it physically, I would like to do it in my head. Just a little while. Get me the fuck out of here.
There are self-help titles such as Let it Out Now: Curing by Crying, Denial Is Not a River in Egypt, Angels and Addicts: Letting God’s Helpers Help You!!! and Daddy Didn’t Love Me: A Tale of Addiction. There is a series of books on each of the Twelve Steps. Step One: No Control, Step Three: Let Go and Let God, Step Six: Get Ready for Action, Step Eleven: Make Contact. There are several well-thumbed copies of the New Testament. I have read the New Testament. I will not waste my time on it again.
I reach for a thick, worn blue book. It has no cover and no title and there is a symbol on the front that has a triangle on the inside of a circle. I have been given this book before. I have been given this book by friends, by friends of friends, by people who thought they could change me. It is called The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, the symbol on the front of it is the symbol of sobriety. I have never read it before, nor even bothered opening it. When it was given to me, I threw it in the gutter or stuffed it in the bottom of the nearest garbage can. I have been to AA Meetings and they have left me cold. I find the philosophy to be one of replacement. Replacement of one addiction with another addiction. Replacement of a chemical for a God and a Meeting. The Meetings themselves made me sick. Too much whining, too much complaining, too much blaming. Too much bullshit about Higher Powers. There is no Higher Power or any God who is responsible for what I do and for what I have done and for who I am. There is no Higher Power or any God who will cure me. There is no Meeting where any amount of whining, complaining and blaming is going to make me feel any better.
I am an Alcoholic and a Drug Addict and a Criminal. I am worse than I have ever been in my life. I am in a Clinic somewhere in Minnesota. If I leave the Clinic my Family and my remaining friends will write me off. If I leave the Clinic my options are limited to death or Jail. I’m alone and it’s the middle of the night and I don’t want to go back to the Medical Unit and I can’t sleep. I want a drink. I want fifty drinks. I want a pipe and some rock. I want a long fat line of meth, I want ten hits of acid, a tube of industrial-strength glue. Give me a bottle of pills, give me some dope laced with PCP. Give me something. Anything. I need to get out of here. If not in body, at least in mind. I need to get the fuck out of here.
I pick up the book. I stare at it. I know it can’t hurt me and I know I have nothing to lose. I begin reading.
It starts with a Doctor’s note, written by an Expert in addiction. The Doctor says that profound Alcoholism is basically incurable. He says the only thing he knows of that will get someone sober and keep them sober is AA.
It moves on to the story of Bill, who is the founder of AA. Bill is the Jesus Christ of the movement, the Savior and the Messiah, and although Bill did not die on the cross, he certainly lived on it. Bill was a bad drunk with a bad life and bad problems. He searched and searched for a cure for his Alcoholism and he came up empty. At his lowest point, he came across an old drinking Buddy who had found God and gotten sober. His friend’s conversion