I'll show you mine. You show me yours.

Addiction is a reckoning.

When I was an intern at the newspaper, I had a kindly and generous mentor. He was a respected senior editor. He used to have me over to his place for dinner, wine-swilling and weed-smoking. Sometimes, we did a little coke.

At the end of the night, he always asked for a kiss.

I haven’t seen him since I left the newspaper. But I sent him these Confessions a couple of months ago.

You see, people show their true heart when you show them yours. And some hearts can surprise with the depth of their compassion.

Others meet vulnerability with derision. They see being an addict as failing at life.

I’m afraid my old friend showed me his heart. He didn’t respond. Maybe he’s doing his own thing. He doesn’t owe me anything.

Or maybe he’s with the rest of my former friends and colleagues, reading these words from the upper gallery.

Remember De Quincy? He had such promise. Shame. What a trainwreck.

What’s it to me, anyway? The heart that beats in your chest is the one you have to live with. Not me.

As an addict, I lost my career, countless people who claimed to be my friend, and most of my most cherished illusions. When I went clean, I learned that none of it mattered.

Because I landed back at the beginning, where I should have been all along. Writing from the heart — a heart that hasn’t been this clear since I was a kid. I’m healing at home. And among people who don’t merely claim to love me, but show it.

It took me all this time to realize that my addiction was a reckoning.

It set me back. Only to set me forward. And then, it set me free.