Instead of doing any of that, I called Drew. I confessed to him what was going on and he called in a favor to a psychiatrist he’s friendly with, and she agreed to see me immediately. The three of us sat in her office, and for the following hour and a half, I let everything go. All of my awful, horrible, depraved, self-destructive thoughts. All of my urges and fears I laid on the table. Drew spent most of the session with his head in his hands, his face staring at the ground. He was a mess. I was a mess. But I was tired of running. Tired of hiding something that could no longer be hidden. It
...more
