that seems to be a theme— displacement, disregard, dispossession, in this forsaken country—it's neoliberalism all the way down to the community, and the family. though there's a story for each of us. but i keep thinking, knowing, it didn't have to be that way, it doesn't have to be this way. we kids were discarded too. i felt like a ghost. yesss, we cant continue the separation by discarding ourselves. every drinking story is unique too, though there are commonalities. certainly at times i feared stopping and feared i never could. thinking about the displaced, the abandoned, the unhomed,  all the forsaken beings.

—it's different when you read and write to someone. i popped the above out of an email to sarah and amended.