Those first days away from home,
in a city with nowhere to go, knowing no one,
and no one to expect you at any place, any time
created an almost dizzying disconnectedness,
an unsettling emptiness; perhaps it felt like a lobotomy.
Alcohol was an easy decision: a place to hang out,
a reason to be there; alcohol would fill the hours,
dispel the loneliness. The hubbub of a bar was a vision of living;
though one was alone, a rock in a stream, for a while it felt like living,
and later, when the isolation began to drill your brain,
the alcohol would take you away, tuck you up in oblivion.
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