This post contains mentions of addiction, depression, and suicidal thoughts. All names and identifying details have been changed.I was sitting in my mostly empty apartment with a lazily rolled joint burning between my lips — my first smoke of the year — and the rest of Los Angeles was blasting fireworks.
It was a new year, yet things felt bleak. Once again, I was high and alone. I remember thinking, I am always going to feel this way deep down. I don’t know how many more years I can do this.
It was the lowest I'd felt in a while.I immediately felt comfortable being there. My familiarity with AA groups was limited to what I’ve seen in film and television, and they’re usually overwhelmingly heteronormative and white — not a judgment, just an observation.