A Book to Read:

I just finished reading "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. My sister lent it to me, since there was still time before it was due back at the library. She loved it. I hated it, and I must own it. I cried more during the two days it took to read that damn book than I have cried in the past five years. Not because the author's experiences were horrifying (which they were), but because they reminded me of things that I've forgotten - and the fact that I shouldn't have forgotten them. I never went through anything like what Mr. Frey went through, not even remotely, but I've detoxed before (thank god I never actually puked up bits of organs) and I've lived the emotions he describes and it just reminded me of all the pain and sorrow and so I cried and cried. And while I don't believe in everything he does, I agree with him about AA and 12 Step programs: they are all bullshit. Addiction is a choice we make, and if we make bad choices we stay addicted and if we make good choices we don't and we can't blame it on anyone else. I came to that conclusion years ago when I refused to believe what they were trying to tell me: that I would forever and always be fucked up, but it wasn't my fault, I was just pathetic and weak. Plus the fact that AA and all 12 Step programs are just religion, no matter what bullshit they spout about being non-denominational and non-religious, and all religions are just about keeping (usually) old white men in power, and making sure the rabble stay in their place by keeping as many people as scared and ignorant as they can. I detest the restriction of knowledge as I detest emotional manipulation as a means of control; as I detest anyone telling me what I can and cannot do. So I will buy Mr. Frey's book so that I can keep remembering my anger and my resolve and my reasons, and so that I have a catalyst that will help me to cry when I need to. I almost never cry, and I don't think that is actually a good thing anymore.