That was probably where I hit rock bottom. I recall that I was allowed to leave that rehab center only on weekends, and before I returned, my aunt bought me a box of fried chicken, several bowls of instant ramen, and various breads. I remember that they wouldn’t let me bring coffee in anymore, after I had stayed up all night a couple times, and missed the morning medicine calls because I was dead asleep. And so, there was this one guy who traded me packets of coffee for bread — it wasn’t a particularly fair trade, one cream-filled bun per packet, but I wasn’t complaining. I was there so long, and there are things that happened there that I don’t feel like sharing right now. And I don’t know why I think about it, maybe as contrast — things are for the most part at a high point, except perhaps on the female companionship front. It doesn’t seem as far away as like the time before all the madness happened. Makes me appreciate that old saying, “There but for the grace of God go I.” Prince and pauper are not separated by that much a gulf.
