Within a month of leaving for his dorm at Keady University, Cyrus was drinking nightly, experimenting with weed and benzodiazepines and, once that month, very drunk, heroin. He started having sex, smoking cigarettes. It was like being born—there were so many feelings he’d never felt. He’d wasted years with meditation and chamomile. There were all these seasons nobody even mentioned. New wets, new warm soft heats. He wanted to live in them all.
