“I don’t drink.” It’s a phrase I’ve imagined myself saying for the past two years,…
I had my first drink at 27. I’d grown up in a teetotaling family, with…
I’m smoking a cigarette on a lawn chair by a beautiful pool up in the…
I was in my Greenwich Village apartment on MacDougal Street, a block from Washington Square,…
For years after I quit drinking, I dreaded coming home to my empty apartment. Without…
I used to be a smoker. Well, sort of. I went from smoking here and…
PTSD is elusive; it hides in the shadows and lurks where you least expect it.…
Cockroaches scampered up the bed and scurried across my Greenwich Village apartment floor. I knew…
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