Then, I did the unthinkable. I prayed. Not to the Sunday school God of my youth. Or to the God of any church I’d ever visited. Instead I prayed to a God purely of my own understanding, asking that I be delivered from the character defects that had precipitated my demise. After a moment of quiet reflection, I took out a match and, just like that, burned my inventory until all that remained was ashes in the sand. No, I didn’t just “haul the garbage out to the curb.” I fucking incinerated it. Finally, I let it all go. To this day, the funeral pyre of ashes that was my inventory sits in a Tibetan
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