A Million Little Pieces

An alcoholic at the age of 10, a drug addict at the age of 12 and a drug dealer at the age of 15, charged with offenses and crimes in 3 US states by the age of 18, James Frey was at the point of no return when he was dragged into rehabilitation aged just 23. This is the compelling memoir of James, the son gone wrong of loving parents.

Hallucinations..... Sleepless.... Seeing things, Hearing things...... Blacking out........ Throwing up blood...... Craving.....Craving for drugs...and alcohol... screaming....screaming for drugs....This was his state when the story starts at the rehabilitation centre. And it's no joy ride to recovery, if he ever gets there.

But still deep down inside him he discovers the strength....the strength to make a choice....to live or to die. He protests against the rehab staff, and refuses to follow their instructions simply because it doesn't make sense to him, despite the fact that every one seem to insist that following their rules is the only way out. Despite the instructions of the counsellers, he refuses to 'give himself to God, and have faith in Him'. James is adamant that it's not God who made the decision to take drugs, it's me who did it, so if anyone is going to make the decision to quit it, it's going to be me and only me!

During the rest of his time at the centre he surrounds himself with people who were at one point drug addicts, dealers, womanizers and criminals. But out of this bizzare combination springs some extraordinary friendships that brings out the human counterpart of these people who are despised by the general society.

A best-seller; this is a very powerful and moving story that brings insight to the dark side of life. It's got a considerable amount of foul language and graphic details which only adds to the reality of life.

Read this and you will never look at a drug addict the way you used to.




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I wil just quote a part from the early chapters of the book, but this is definetly not for the faint-hearted. Warren and the bald man here refers to his room mates at the time.

My heart is racing and it's racing irregularly and there is pain with every beat and there is pain with every irregular beat and the pain shoots through my left arm and the left side of my jaw. The liquid has stopped flowing through my body and out of my mouth, but the action of vomiting has not stopped. It feels as if my stomach and my throat are coming out or they are trying to come out. It feels as if my body is trying to rid itself of itself. It is trying to rid itself of me.

I can't do this anymore. I cannot continue to live this way. I am an alcoholic and I am a drug addict and I am a criminal. My body is falling apart and my mind fell apart a long time ago. I want to drink and I want to smoke Crack even though I know drinking and smoking Crack are killing me. I am alone. I have no one to talk to and no one to call. I hate myself. I hate myself so much that I can't look myself in the eye. I hate myself so much that suicide seems like a reasonable option. My family is ready to write me off, my friends are ready to write me off, I have destroyed every meaningful relationship I've ever had. I am vomiting for the seventh time today. The seventh f** time. I cannot continue to live this way. I cannot continue to live this way.

The gagging slows down and I start breathing. Warren is holding me steady and the bald man is staring at me. I raise my hand and I motion for Warren to step away and he stands and he steps away and I lean my head against the front of the toilet. I breathe. I take in as much air as I can. I know the air will slow my heart and calm me down, so I breathe. I take in much air as I can. Calm me down. Calm me down.
Warren speaks. The bald man stares.
"Are you all right?"
I nod.
"Do you need help?"
I shake my head.
"I'm going to get someone"
I speak,
"No"
"You need help"
"No"
"James, you need help"
I stand. I am unsteady.
"I decide what I need. Not you!"

I take a deep breath and I stumble to the sink and I turn on the water and I wash my face and I clean the vomit out of my mouth. When I finish, I turn off the water and I turn around. Warren is staring at me and the bald man is staring at me. I walk past them and I walk out of the bathroom. Warren follows me out and he heads to his area of the room.

"Let me at least give you a shirt"

I look at my shirt. It is white and brown and red. Covered with streaks of bile and patches of shit that I have never seen before and streams of blood.

"Here"

Warren tosses me a shirt. I catch it. It is a starched white Oxford. I look at it and I look at him. He speaks.

"It's the only clean shirt I've got left"

I look at the shirt. It is not a shirt I would wear. I laugh and I look back at Warren.

"Thank you"

He laughs.

"No problem"