You want to know why I cry?
You want to know why I wanted to be involved or why I do what I do?
I sat in the small bathroom of an upstairs suite of an old hotel that was transformed into a drug rehabilitation center. The decorations were something from the 70’s. The suite had a blue rug, white walls, and wood colored furniture. The main lobby was also outdated with wood paneled walls and Berber carpeting. The couches were old. The pictures on the wall were perhaps left behind from the days when the treatment center was a temporary home to happy hotel guests. In its exchange, the hotel became a temporary home to people like me. This was a place of recovery for drug addicts and alcoholics.
I was 19 at the time and fulfilling my Continue reading