Drugs Better — The Boy Who Lost Himself To

They say he "lost himself." But that is a gentle lie. A self is not a set of keys you misplace in the couch. A self is a house with many rooms—rooms for grief, for joy, for shame, for love. He did not lose the house. He began to sell it, one brick at a time.

And the boy who drew maps? He is now a geography of absence. A beautiful, terrible landscape where nothing grows anymore. The Boy Who Lost Himself To Drugs BETTER

The tragedy is not that he died. The tragedy is that he died while still walking. That he became a museum of himself—a place no one visits, because the only exhibit left is an empty chair and the faint, sickly-sweet smell of something that once promised to make him feel , but left him unable to feel anything at all. They say he "lost himself