See, that’s the thing about L.A.— When you’ve mastered the art of feeling lonely in a room full of people, that’s when you know.
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Kris Kidd
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I think of drug dealers like I think of my father— never really there when you want them to be.

By Kris Kidd

You give the shirt off your back, no questions asked, and you stand alone at the cavernous mouth of your suburban closet—

By Kris Kidd

You burn bright and you burn hard, like a fire in a dumpster,

By Kris Kidd

My desperation is deliberate. Despondency's a pheromone.

By Kris Kidd

Then I drop to my knees because I can't find a decent enough reason not to, because reluctance rarely stands a chance against repeated behavior.

By Kris Kidd

I gave them everything I had, and I guess it feels

By Kris Kidd
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