I stared into the void one night a few years ago, the starless night sky of a certain winter, sitting outside despite the cold, wrapped in a jacket, my thoughts a mess and I had no idea how to collect them or where to even begin.
I held the whiskey glass tight in my right hand, finished cigars lying on the table beside my feet which were up there too securely covered in socks, and music played in my earphones... a little too loud.
'Something inside is hurting you- that's why you need cigarettes or whiskey or music turned out so loud that you can't think straight- or in your case, all three.' My twin brother had commented behind me disapprovingly.
'I told Mum I remembered one very ugly argument we had had when I was thirteen and she told me I remembered too much,' I told him, 'She asked
