When I heard the truth about A Million Little Pieces, I wasn’t all that surprised.
I was one of the people who forgot the truth about the unbelievable. If it’s too good to be true, well, yeah, it’s probably just that.
I keep hearing how the message of Frey’s book is bigger than whether or not it’s true.
Interesting. Because if the book’s not true, the message is pointless.
I work with kids and I love my job. But every once in awhile I run into these amazingly talented kids on the fast track to nowhere. So drugged up and lost it breaks my heart every time I see them.
And when I heard about A Million Little Pieces, I let myself believe in the miracle. The miracle that these kids have a chance. That even though they’ve been through rehab time and time again, even though they’ve found and lost religion, gone away to retreats, been through bootcamp and still come out on the other side only to spend their first weekends free boozing or snorting or shooting up, MAYBE, just maybe, they have a chance.
The lie of A Million Little Pieces is the real tragedy.
I’m sure the controversy will die soon enough. Oprah has her new book pick. The lost kids will still be lost. Real recovering addicts and alcoholics will continue their daily battle against the demons I can’t begin to imagine. And the next liar will write the next tell-all, slap the word memoire on it and enthrall the public again because we want to believe the impossible.
Hopefully I won’t be one of the gullible.