A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [44]
All around me, People are going about their day. Patients are going to counseling and to therapy, Doctors and Therapists are giving them whatever they need. People are either getting help or giving help and they are all doing it willingly. Their bodies are recovering and their minds are recovering and they are rebuilding their lives and they are following the Program and they are trusting in the Program. They have turned themselves over and they believe and whether it works or not in the long run doesn’t matter. For now, they believe. I do not know how they are doing it.
I get to my Room and I see that someone has retrieved the Bible and the Big Book that I threw out the window and placed them back on my bed. They are soggy and wet, the pages swollen, the covers warped. The fact that they are back and that someone has brought them back makes me angry. I pick them up and I carry them to the Bathroom and I stuff them in the garbage can beneath the used razors, the brown Q-Tips and the dirty snot rags. If I could, and if my body would cooperate, I would stuff them into the toilet and I would shit on them.
I walk back to my bed and I lie down and I close my eyes and the finality of Doctor Baker’s words start to sink in and the words clear my mind and kill my urges and slow my heart. I have received my sentence. A few days of regular drug and alcohol abuse is going to kill me. I will be dead, gone, no more. I will cease to exist in any way, shape or form. I will meet the blackness and the blackness will be eternal. Somehow I always knew I would meet my end this way. Somehow I always knew that I would kill myself with drugs and alcohol. I knew each time I took a drink, I knew each time I snorted a line, I knew each time I hit a pipe or sniffed a tube or took a pill. It is nobody’s fault but my own. I knew each and every time. I could never stop.
I can imagine my obituary. The truth of my existence will be removed and replaced with imagined good. The reality of how I lived will be avoided and changed and phrases will be dropped in like Beloved Son, Loving Brother, Reliable Friend, Hardworking Student. People will change their view of me, from reckless Fuck-Up to helpless Martyr, from dangerous Fool to sad Victim, from addicted Asshole to unfortunate Child. They will say things like my God, what a waste. Oh, what he could have been. He had so much going for him, what happened? And it will be fucking false, every single word of it will be false.
I know who I am and I know what I’ve done and I know why I am about to die. I have faced the reality and the reality is simple. I am an Alcoholic and I am a drug Addict and I am a Criminal. That is what I am and who I am and that is how I should be remembered. No happy lies, no invented memories, no fake sentimentality, no tears. I do not deserve tears. I deserve to be portrayed honestly and I deserve nothing more and I start to write an honest obituary in my own mind. I write the obituary that should appear, but never will. I start at the beginning and I stick to the facts and I move to what I know will be my end.
James Frey. Born in Cleveland, Ohio, September 12, 1969. Started stealing sips from drinks at seven. Got hammered for the first time at ten. Vomited from abuse for the first time at ten. Smoked dope at twelve. By thirteen was smoking and drinking regularly. Blacked out for the first time at fourteen. At fifteen got arrested three times. For Driving Without a License, for Vandalism and Destruction of Property, for Public Intoxication and Possession of Alcohol as a Minor. Went to Jail for a night. At fifteen tried cocaine, acid and crystal meth for the first time. Got arrested three more times at sixteen. Started drinking and doing drugs before School. Started selling liquor and drugs to his fellow Students. Blacked out and vomited regularly. Three more arrests at seventeen. Got first DUI. Blew a .36, and set a County Record. Went to Jail for a week. Drank and did drugs every day. At School, at Home, everywhere. Vomited and blacked out several times