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In the absence of antidepressants and psychiatrists, I drank. Every day. Around half a bottle of wine, sometimes more. They say that alcohol causes depression, but they ought not generalize. It may not have been the wisest coping mechanism, but alcohol made life tolerable.
By the time I was seventeen, I decided that I would make all future decisions about my life. It turned out that I sought my father’s advice on almost every one of those decisions. Occasionally, I chose to ignore it.
One of my many contradictions is that I don’t like people much, but I find comfort in having them around. I prefer sprawling, crowded cities like Bangkok, Manila, or Mexico City, where I can wander the streets without anyone noticing me.
“I can’t believe I told you I was falling in love with you before we had even kissed!” I said. “Have you changed your mind?” she asked. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.” “Me either,” she said.
