There’s a reason no crack smoke was entering the room last night, this after it had become almost constant. Do you remember how I tried the other day to help an online friend escape an abusive situation?
She did not let me help her. But how could I blame her? Have I let me help myself?
Now, I wasn’t being fed drugs, of course, except, inadvertently, by the neighbors. Nor was I held prisoner by anything other than my own decisionmaking.
But in a decisionmaking shift of (non-)epic proportions, I, five heavy bags in hand (or hanging from another part of my limbs), fled the consequences of my decisions Thursday night and flung myself into the arms of new decisions, probably as flawed as the last, but free of ambient crack (the crack was not my greatest concern).
As I write this, you can see the Statue of Liberty through the window…
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