Stumbling drunk into my Motel Room on Biscayne Boulevard Miami, high on CBD the memories surged through my whole being and for, I don’t know how long, every image, every sound played on repeat in my mind. I started to rip my clothes violently from my body, hard and fast they fell to the ground, I heard every crease hit the floor and watched the nickels scatter. That feeling returned, my skin made from electricity, sharp it crackled. Flopping to the bed, I struggled to breathe as the tears saturated my dry yet slightly sun kissed cheeks. I had looked for answers in Kubler Ross, did it resonate? Maybe, but what I did know was that it didn’t match the psychological disconnect and physical pain that was my grief. The waves were so powerful they knocked me to the floor where I lay naked for hours. My grief was a noxious cocktail of heartbreak, addiction, starvation, amnesia and distortion, making it impossible to navigate in a world where I no longer belonged. Stumbling drunk into my Motel Room the memories flooded back, at that minute I began documenting my reflections, I let go.