A Million Little Pieces

“The bugs crawl onto my skin and they start biting me and I try to kill them. I claw at my skin, tear at my hair, start biting myself. I don’t have any teeth and I’m biting myself and there are shadows and bright lights and flashes and screams and bugs bugs bugs.”

The author’s visceral, sensory descriptions emphasize The Nature of Addiction as he hallucinates during the withdrawal process. The violent verbs “biting,” “claw,” and “tear,” with their animalistic associations, capture Frey’s desperation as he harms himself in an attempt to rid himself of the imaginary bugs. The triple repetition of bugs underscores his nightmarish belief that the insects are everywhere.

“I go to my Room and I fall asleep and I spend the rest of the day sleeping and shoving food down my throat and waiting in line and taking pills.”

Frey’s distinctive authorial style emerges in his description of the rehabilitation clinic’s routine. His rejection of grammatical conventions is illustrated in the capitalization of the common noun “Room,” and the absence of commas. The repetition of “and” in this run-on sentence conveys the joylessness and monotony of Frey’s daily schedule. The capitalization of “Room” hints at the author’s resentment of this institutionalized environment.

“My body lurches and I close my eyes and I lean forward. Blood and bile and chunks of my stomach come pouring from my mouth and my nose. It gets stuck in my throat, in my nostrils, in what remains of my teeth. Again it comes, again it comes, again it comes, and with each episode a sharp pain shoots through my chest, my left arm and my jaw.”

Frey’s repeated episodes of vomiting are a side effect of his addiction. The author’s repetition of “again” underscores the relentless and painful nature of this physical symptom. The graphically detailed description of his bodily sensations aims to make readers share in this discomfort, giving insight into how addiction feels.