Marcus closed his eyes. He didn't do drugs. His addiction was quieter: the slow drip of self-loathing, the comfort of giving up, the lullaby of "you're not good enough."
He plugged in his white Apple earbuds—the original ones with the terrible, flimsy rubber—and pressed play. Eminem Recovery -iTunes Deluxe Edition--2010
He opened the Notes app and typed: "Tomorrow: Apply to welding school. Move out by December." Marcus closed his eyes