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“Don’t Look Back in Anger”

In one night, I lost five years of my life. Here’s what I know …

I was homeless. 

I’m a recovering drug addict.

My inked skin crawls from lustful eyes. 

I have a serious aversion to women. 

My gay partner is a home wrecker. 

I own a gun and I’m a damn good shot. 

I’m a makeup artist, but it’s an insult to my talent. 

I’ve never wanted to possess anything except my Ducati … until I met Darby. 

Now here’s what I know since that day in the ER when she pieced me back together … nothing—but a few random thoughts.

My new “friend” is distracting, clingy, and obsessed with acronyms, emojis, and phrases like “breakfast soul mates.” 

I didn’t want to like her, but she crawled under my skin and swallowed me whole. Now we’re best friends and she’s my new addiction. I'd drink her from a shot glass, snort her up my nose, or inject her into my veins if I could. What I won’t do … is ever tell her that. 

She doesn’t know me … I don’t know me. When those missing years come back, I think she will hate me … I think I will hate me. 

My parents named me Patrick Roth, and this is my story.