The great illusion of many alcoholics is that we are alone and that drinking will help us fit in with the world. This illusion had become a lifestyle for me by the time I moved to New York City at age twenty-five. But no amount of alcohol, casual sex, or expensive clothing could relieve my inner loneliness. In a city of eight million people, the loneliest place to be was in a crowd.
“For You, on the House.” The attacks of September 11, 2001, happened just after my twenty-seventh birthday. Watching smoke and ash...
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