#California Art Therapy
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streightiffsylvan · 8 months ago
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The Healing Power of Art Therapy for Trauma
Art therapy for trauma uses creative activities like drawing, painting, and sculpting to help individuals express and process their traumatic experiences. This therapeutic approach allows people to explore difficult emotions and memories in a safe and non-verbal way. By engaging in art-making, individuals can gain insights into their trauma, reduce stress, and foster healing. Art therapy provides a supportive space for people to work through their pain and build resilience, ultimately promoting mental and emotional recovery.
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tiffanydaleo · 7 months ago
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Fishy Fungi
Check out my newest piece Fishy Fungi!
9/12″ Mixed media collage I’m getting ready to lead a collage workshop for OUR Arts Foundation later this week so I wanted to play around and make some notes about collaging. I have been making collages for over 30 years but I’ve never tried to show someone how to do it, so this will be a learning experience for me too. I want to emphasize that layers are your friends. There are no rules, but…
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twiichii · 24 days ago
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Southern California Wind and Wildfire Support Resources
Hello all, I hope you all are having a wonderful New Year for 2025! I live in Los Angeles, California and a lot of things are going on for us. I do not have the capacity for a peaceful post about my life at the moment, yet I want to provide you with an update and Resources for communities affected by fires around Los Angeles:  Please be aware of steps you can take to be ready if you need…
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w-i-m-m · 2 years ago
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lorainefaith · 1 year ago
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Message!!! Stop giving a fuck about what people think for 2024! 🫶🏾❤️ give it a listen/watch
Her Insta 📸: @im.t.nicole
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naijawomyn · 2 years ago
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A Healing Space For Healers
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surriessecrets · 7 days ago
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The Bottles
If I bottled my emotions and was to seal the vessel shut, there would be blood stains in my pockets. Puddles in the drawers. Oceans forming in the deep holes I've dug to contain and keep it out of my own sight. Hopeful that it would suffocate and stifle itself out and become a soon forgotten secret nestled between the ashes of the stars.
I would drown myself within its contents.
Since I know this has no basis in reality, I've chosen other means of tangibility and have discovered other ways to drown my sorrows and myself. It's reminiscent of my father for he was the same. It's the only permanent gift he has ever given me .
Just as he could not out run the cellular-sparked demons that resides witin his bone and flesh that fuel themselves on his hatred of his own meat, I too, have been plagued by being an unwilling participant of this rat-race marathon.
My brain twists and curves and squelches as it tries to fight its way out of me as it knows self-preservation. A feat that has long been lost on me. Or maybe I'm far too infected and the memory of any healed version of me has been dispersed in the tsunami of bottles that litter my history.
How can one find any comfort or solace on that in which destroys them?
Unless that is the hope.
Unless the comfort is not within the bottles I've been collecting but in the knowing that, while fleeting, I know that I will not have to feel. To think. To claw and tear at the skin where the creatures that consume me wiggle and writhe beneath the surface. Almost wanting to find an escape route but they too have fallen victim to comfort of their own chaos. Knowing that once they have consumed all of me, they will no longer have a place to call home.
Perhaps sitting with them is the only acceptance I will get.
Perhaps they have become my friends.
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marywoodartdept · 17 days ago
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Los Angeles
Madilyn, #ArtTherapy blogger, reflects on her trip to #LosAngeles and its devastation from recent #wildfires. She shares how art therapy aids recovery and details a heartfelt art project inspired by hope and healing. 🌟🔥 #MarywoodArt #ArtTherapy
Hey guys! I hope you all had an incredible winter break and got some well deserved rest before our next semester starts! Over winter break I was lucky enough to travel to Los Angeles, California, to visit one of my best friends! My trip was absolutely amazing! I got to see the Hollywood Sign, go to Santa Monica Pier, see the Walk Of Fame, visit The Grove, go to Disneyland, see Rodeo Drive, go to…
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farttherapy · 2 years ago
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That last part was a lie?
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soliloquio | victor m. alonso
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venusinorbit · 2 years ago
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LONG BEACH, Calif. (KABC) -- More than 300 students from more than 35 states submitted essays and various forms of artwork for the second annual Bring the Noise scholarship contest and exhibition. This year's focus was all about mental health and students submitted work that explored how they, as Asian American teens, can establish healthy self-journeys.
"To be able to say, 'I'm going to take off my mask and show my true self unapologetically,' is something that I'm just very proud that this generation of young people are able to do," said Tommy Chang, one of judges of the contest. "Something that I know growing up in America in the 80s and 90s I didn't have that instinct."
Submissions included essays, artwork and videos of students singing and dancing. Out of all of the submissions, 10 students were awarded a cash prize scholarship, totaling $10,000 given to the winners. Students said they hope their art can have an impact.
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farttherapy · 2 years ago
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streightiffsylvan · 8 months ago
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The Impact of Art Therapy Specialists on Mental Health
An Art Therapy Specialist is a professional who uses creative art-making processes to help individuals express themselves and address emotional and psychological issues. By guiding clients through activities such as drawing, painting, or sculpting, they help people explore their feelings, reduce stress, and improve mental well-being. Art Therapy Specialist work with individuals of all ages and backgrounds, including those dealing with trauma, anxiety, depression, and other mental health challenges. Their goal is to provide a therapeutic outlet that promotes healing and personal growth through the power of artistic expression.
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tiffanydaleo · 17 days ago
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Symphony
6/8” Mixed media on paper Instagram Facebook Pinterest Tumblr YouTube Link
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twiichii · 6 months ago
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July is Wildfire Season
I hope you all are having a wonderful summer! Between working with Anise Health (as an APCC) and Upward Together (as a Teaching Artist), I have been underpaid, unfulfilled, etc. While the work is quite wonderful, I can’t help but struggle with the slow pace and honestly feel a bit hopeless and detached at times. Thus, I pursued two summer programs that can add to the holistic, fulfilling, and…
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noellacope · 2 years ago
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Brand new poem up on my stub stack. This piece is incredibly meaningful to as it was born from exploring where in my childhood some of my core beliefs where formed. This one is about my relationship since early childhood to miracles. 
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keeryhours · 20 days ago
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the needle and the damage done - chapter three
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Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader
Main Masterlist
Series Masterlist
Eddie Munson Masterlist
Summary:
Eddie goes to rehab.
Warnings:
Angst, withdrawal, rehab, mention of drugs
Word Count: 3.3k
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Eddie had a rough night. He didn’t sleep, spending the night tossing and turning, sweating, running to the bathroom to throw up all night long.
He thought about leaving. He thought about running to his dealer’s and getting high again and putting himself out of his misery. But the thought of having to face you after begging for help then getting high - again - kept him there.
You were right there with him, holding his hair as he got sick, cooling him down with a cold wash cloth. Neither of you slept. He clung to you like a scared child, crying through the pain and begging you to make it stop. You were powerless, crying for your husband as you could do nothing but watch him suffer through the night.
You were making phone calls bright and early, calling all the best rehabs in California to try to get Eddie a spot. You lucked out with the Passages Treatment Center in Malibu, California, where they said they could get him in for detox treatment immediately.
You brought the girls to Gareth and Roz, before rushing home to help Eddie pack a bag and get him into the car. You brought his guitar along just in case. It was a nearly hour long drive there, your heart breaking as Eddie writhed in pain in the passenger seat, having to pull over multiple times for him to be sick.
When you arrived at the rehab center, you were shocked at how fancy the place was. It looked like a mansion, complete with a beautiful pool and garden outside. You carried Eddie’s bag and helped him walk to the front door, where a well-dressed woman and a nurse greeted you both.
“Edward Munson?” She asked, a clipboard in hand that she quickly looked over.
“Eddie,” Eddie corrected her, “but yes.”
She smiled. “Well welcome, Eddie. You can come with us to this room to do the medical evaluation. Your wife can come with you, if you want.”
Eddie clutched your hand tightly, telling you he wanted you with him. You wouldn’t have it any other way, following them to the small room with your standard medical equipment. They had Eddie sit in a seat next to a vitals machine, you taking the seat next to him.
Poor Eddie looked like hell. He never let go of your hand with his left one, his black wedding band cool against your skin in contrast to his sweaty hand. You fiddled with his ring nervously as the well-dressed woman sat behind the desk, the nurse moving to grab the blood pressure cuff.
“So,” she began, as the nurse wrapped the cuff around Eddie’s right arm. “I want to welcome you to Passages, first and foremost. We hope to offer you a comfortable experience, a treatment plan that will set you up for success when you return home. My name is Dr. Roberts. Have you ever been in a program like this?”
“Uh, no,” Eddie said, his awkwardness and fear evident in his voice. “I’ve never…been to rehab before.”
“Well, we’re different from many rehabs in that we take a holistic approach here. We offer the usual counseling and one on one psychiatry sessions, but we also offer massage therapy, acupuncture, yoga and meditation, music therapy, art therapy, and treatment with natural medicines,” she explains. Eddie’s face lit up at the mention of music therapy, which she caught. “Ah, a musician?”
“Yes, my whole life,” Eddie says quickly, the blood pressure cuff inflating on his arm. “I, uh, have a band. Had a band. Corroded Coffin.”
Dr. Roberts smiled. “Ah yes, my son is a fan.”
Eddie laughed lightly. “Really? Maybe I can sign something for him.”
That made her smile even bigger. “I’m sure he would love that.” She opened the file in front of her, flipping the sheets until she found the form she was looking for. “What was his blood pressure?” She asked the nurse.
“122 over 76,” she said. “Slightly elevated.”
Dr. Roberts wrote that down as the nurse put the thermometer in Eddie’s mouth. When it beeped, she said, “100.” She wrote this down as well.
“Eddie, what is your drug of choice?”
“Uh,” Eddie said, shooting you a guilty look. “Heroin, mostly. And cocaine. Oxy, Speed.”
Your stomach hurt as you listened to him speak, but the doctor wrote this information down without judgement. “Meth?”
“Um…a few times. Not really.”
He squeezed your hand harder in his, as if willing you not to leave him. Like he was scared the truth of his addiction would scare you away. You understood the concern, because you felt like you were about to be sick, but you weren’t leaving his side. Your hand lightly rubbed over your belly in a soothing gesture.
“Tell me about your family, Eddie,” she said, a friendly smile on her face as she slid her glasses higher on her nose. “I see you have a lovely wife. Any kids?”
Eddie smiled, looking peaceful for the first time since last night. “Three. Well, soon to be four,” he says, letting go of your hand briefly to place it along with yours on your belly. “We have three girls, 10, 6, and 3. Evie, Rhiannon, and Ivy. Not sure what this one will be yet.” He gently rubs affectionate circles on your stomach.
The doctor smiled at him, writing more notes on her paper. “It sounds like you have a beautiful life you’d like to get back to. I’m sure you want to be healthy for your girls.”
Eddie’s eyes had already been watering, his nose running from the withdrawal, but a tear escaped down his cheek at her words. “Yeah. I do.”
“Good. We hope to help you achieve that here,” she said. “Now, I’m going to go down a list of opiate withdrawal symptoms, and you let me know if you’re experiencing them, okay?”
Eddie nodded, and she began going down the list. Insomnia? Yes. Sweating? Obviously a yes. Watery eyes and running nose? Yes and yes. Pain? Fuck yes. Nausea and vomiting? Big yes.
“It sounds like you’re experiencing severe acute withdrawal,” she said seriously. “We can help you get through this stage with a medication called Suboxone. It affects the same area of your brian as heroin does, without the…feelings that heroin provides. So it eases you through the symptoms and cravings without actually making you feel high.”
Eddie nodded again. That sounded great - to not have to suffer like this anymore without going back to heroin? It sounded perfect. “Yeah, that…that sounds good.”
“Have you ever been in a substance abuse treatment program before?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental health condition?” She continued.
“No, not that I know of.”
“History of substance abuse in your family?”
“Um…my dad,” he said. “But he wasn’t really around at all.”
She marked that down. “Any legal trouble? Criminal or arrest history?”
Eddie looked down awkwardly at that question. “Uh, I’ve been arrested a few times. Disorderly conduct, public intoxication, possession.”
“Possession of what?”
“Weed. Cocaine.”
She began writing again. “Are these ongoing legal troubles or are they closed?”
“They’re settled.”
“Alright, good,” she said. “Now…how has your addiction impacted your life and your family?”
Eddie sighed. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, and it was as if you could feel his shame from where you sat. “It’s a disaster. My marriage is dying because of me. Because I can’t stop, or even just keep it out of the house. I haven’t seen my kids in what feels like forever. I miss them, but they’re scared of me. All they’ve seen of me for months is me high off my ass - sorry for the language - and it freaks them out. I don’t blame them. I remember being scared of my dad, too.” He sniffled, and you weren’t sure if it was from the runny nose or if he was really crying. “My band broke up because of me. I ruined the dreams of all my friends because I was selfish. My friends, who have been with me since middle school, are now sick of me. Sick of taking care of me, sick of putting up with me, sick of me fucking everything up.”
Dr. Roberts wrote all of this down on her papers, the look on her face one of sympathy. “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all this. But here we hope to help you repair those relationships. We offer marriage counseling, as well as counseling with any other friends or family whose relationships you feel you need to work on.”
Eddie nodded. That sounded good to the both of you. You reached for Eddie’s hand again and squeezed it in your own.
Dr. Roberts went on about the amenities they offered, how Eddie would have a private suite and was welcome to bring his guitar to work on music while he was there. They would be starting with detox treatment right away, prescribing the Suboxone to help him through the life-threatening withdrawal symptoms.
Then, it was time to say goodbye. Eddie embraced you tightly, burying his face in your neck as you held him back just as tightly, brushing your fingers through his hair soothingly.
“I love you,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m so proud of you. I think this is going to be really good for us.”
“I love you too,” he said, clinging to you even tighter. “I’m going to get better for you and the girls and this baby. I promise.” He lifted his head to place a kiss on your cheek.
“I know you will.” You laid your head on his chest, imagining just for a moment that things were normal. Finally Eddie pulled back, reluctantly leaving the embrace. He squeezed your hands and gave you a small smile before picking up his bag and guitar case and turning to follow the doctor into the facility.
You were crying as you left, heartbroken to be leaving Eddie behind but grateful for the help he would hopefully be getting. You walked back out to the car, taking the time to pull yourself together in the driver’s seat before heading home to pick up the girls and get back to life as usual, without Eddie.
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Rehab wasn’t so bad. Once detox was over, Eddie spent most of his days writing music, playing around with his guitar in between sessions with his care team. It was a soothing environment, and he found he didn’t mind it. The only thing he hated was being away from you and his girls. He called every day, talking to you for as long as possible then letting the girls pass the phone back and forth.
Eddie practically had three albums worth of songs written by the time he’d been there for three weeks. Now it was time for the first family visit, and he was nervous.
He looked at himself in the mirror, combing through his curls and making himself look as nice for you as possible. He wore his favorite black jeans, ripped, but that was his usual style. He wore his favorite Metallica tee. He examined his face in the mirror - he looked a lot healthier than the last time you’d seen him. He had gained weight, his dark eye circles gone. He didn’t look like a junkie anymore.
Eddie followed the male nurse - Jake? - down the hall and to the nice room set up for visits. It was bright and sunny, a large window on one wall. It was furnished with a large couch and a few chairs, as well as a large TV on the wall. Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets, beyond nervous for this visit.
He only waited a few minutes before the door opened, and his face immediately brightened as he saw you. You looked absolutely radiant, a sight for sore eyes for sure. You broke out into a huge grin as you saw him, running into his arms. He wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you off the ground as he laughed, feeling total joy. He sat you down, then immediately pulled you into a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his arms slid around your waist, and he held you tightly after you shared a lingering kiss. When he pulled back, you both looked over each other, taking in the other’s appearance.
“You look great,” you said, tears in your eyes as you saw your husband looking like your husband again. He looked healthy, happy. It made your heart beat hard in your chest just like it did when you first fell in love. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Eddie looked you over, immediately noticing the small bump showing through your shirt. He placed his hand on it softly. “How far along now?”
“9 weeks,” you smiled. “But fourth pregnancy and all, I popped early.”
Eddie laughed lightly, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I can’t wait to find out if it’s a boy or a girl.” He rubbed his hand over your belly. “I’m hoping for a boy this time. But I’ll be happy either way. You know I love my girls.”
You giggled, your hand laying over his. “It would be exciting to have a boy. But you know the girls want another sister.”
“Yeah, I bet. Evie wants another doll to dress up,” he laughed. “Where are my girls?”
“Roz has them,” you said. “I figured I would come in and say hi first. Are you…ready to see them?” You looked nervous, like you were scared for him to see the girls. Or rather, scared for the girls to see him.
“Yeah, of course. I’ve been dying to see them,” he smiled gently. He stroked a hand through your hair, looking at you like he was memorizing every feature. “I want to see them.”
You pulled your phone out, sending a quick text to Roz. Moments later there was a knock at the door, before it opened and the three girls shuffled in. They looked scared, Evie in the middle clutching both Rhiannon and Ivy’s hands. They walked behind you, Rhiannon and Ivy hiding behind their big sister.
“Daddy…?” Evie said cautiously, and Eddie’s heart broke into a million pieces.
Oh god, he thought, my kids really are scared of me.
“Hey, baby girls,” he said, crouching down. “I’ve missed you.”
Evie eyed him warily, looking up to you for guidance. You nodded. “You can give daddy a hug. It’s okay.”
Eddie held his arms out as Evie slowly shuffled forward, her sisters staying behind you. Finally, she collapsed into his arms, tears flowing as he held her.
“I missed you so much, daddy,” she cried into his chest. “Are you still sick?”
Eddie looked up at you, his expression utterly broken. He stroked her hair as he held her tightly. “I’m getting better, baby. For you and your sisters and your momma.”
You gently nudged Rhiannon and Ivy in Eddie’s direction. “Go see daddy, girls. It’s okay.”
The two younger Munsons walked over, joining Evie in Eddie’s embrace. “We miss you,” Rhiannon said, her voice small and sad, completely unlike her. Eddie felt physical pain in his chest, like his despair and shame were so strong the pain was tangible.
He placed a kiss on each of their heads. “Well, I’m here now. I’m getting better. And I’ll be home soon.”
“When?” Rhiannon asked. “We want you home now,” she pouted. “Momma doesn’t play with us as good as you do.”
“Hey!” You protested, pretending to be offended. “I’m lots of fun!”
“She always picks boring old movies,” Rhiannon whispered to Eddie, making him smile. “You let us watch the scary stuff.”
“Yeah, and she says she can’t play on the floor or throw us in the pool, ‘cause of the baby in her belly, she says,” Evie added.
Eddie laughed. “Be kind to your momma. She does her best for you three. And growing a baby is hard work.”
“Where do babies come from anyway?” Rhiannon asked, her brows furrowed. “Sam from school said-“
“Okay!” Eddie said, trying to hide his laughter. “Let’s have this conversation another time, yeah?”
The girls warmed up quickly. They talked Eddie’s ear off, telling him all about school and what they’d been doing at home. Ivy clung to him like she never wanted to leave him, and you dreaded having to say goodbye. After a while Eddie brought his guitar out and played some of the new songs he’d been working on.
When visiting hours were over, the same nurse came back, letting you all know it was time. Eddie hugged each girl for as long as he could, and Ivy cried as you had to pull her away from him. Roz came back and took the girls so you could say goodbye in private.
“How much longer do they think you’ll be here?” You asked him, finger twirling one of his curls as he held you around your waist.
“At least another four weeks,” he said, his face scrunching up in disapproval. “But it’ll be worth it.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, a sad smile on your face. “I just miss you so much. It’s lonely at home without you. Our bed feels so empty. And it’s…tiring, running after the girls when I already have no energy.”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he told you. He placed a kiss on your lips. “I love you so much, baby.”
“I love you too,” you told him. You kissed him one more time and then you had to go, holding onto his hand until you couldn’t anymore. Eddie watched you leave, his chest aching.
The nurse, Jake, began walking him back to his room. They walked in silence for a while, before Jake spoke up.
“I’m a big fan of Corroded Coffin,” he said finally. “You guys rock.”
Eddie smiled. “Thanks, man.”
When they reached Eddie’s door, Jake placed a hand on his arm. Eddie turned to him, confused. Jake leaned in closer, looking around to see if anyone was nearby.
“Hey, I can get you stuff in here. Pills, H, whatever you want. No one will find out.”
Eddie looked at him wide eyed. He was just now getting his life back, had just had an amazing visit with his wife and kids. He wasn’t about to throw all that away again. “Uh, no thanks, man. I’m good.”
“Well, just call me if you change your mind.” He slid a piece of paper with his personal cell phone number on it into Eddie’s hand. “The offer stands.”
Eddie watched Jake walk away. He looked down at the number in his hand as he walked into his room. He balled the paper up and went to throw it away - but something stopped him. Something told him to keep it. He sat on his bed and stared at the number. He wasn’t going to call it. But something held it there in his hands.
He couldn’t get rid of it.
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The next week, Eddie headed back into his room after his meeting with his psychiatrist. He had wanted to go home soon, but his team was now saying they wanted to keep him for another six weeks. It was bullshit. Eddie was pissed.
He slammed the door to his room, rattling the framed art on the wall. He sat on his bed, head in his hands as he cried. He just wanted to get home, back to his life. As fancy and luxurious as the place was, it was hard. And it was hard staying sober. Especially when he had too much time to think.
Eddie picked up the phone. There was only one person he wanted to call. He listened to the phone ring, his stomach in knots as he willed for an answer.
Finally, a “Hello?” came from the other end.
Eddie took a deep breath. “…Jake?”
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