But, if dying was a consequence of getting to take the quantity of drugs I needed, then death was something I was going to have to accept. That’s how skewed my thinking had become—I was able to hold those two things in my mind at the same time: I don’t want to die, but if I have to in order to get sufficient drugs on board, then amen to oblivion. I can distinctively remember holding pills in my hand and thinking, This could kill me, and taking them anyway.
