A Million Little Pieces by James Frey

I finished this book on our travel day this week, that was on Monday for those of you who haven't figured it out that I travel every Monday. The book was excellent, I wish I would have picked it up before the whole Oparah book club thing. Never the less, it was outstanding. I cried, often. I was reading it at work one day at a part when I have down time during the show and was literally almost bawling and couldn't stop. It hit close for me in a few places. I cried because I was happy AND sad. I laughed some too, I wanna be James Frey's friend.

The electrifying opening of James Frey's debut memoir, A Million Little Pieces, smash-cuts to the then 23-year-old author on a Chicago-bound plane "covered with a colorful mixture of spit, snot, urine, vomit and blood." Wanted by authorities in three states, without ID or any money, his face mangled and missing four front teeth, Frey is on a steep descent from a dark marathon of drug abuse. His stunned family checks him into a famed Minnesota drug treatment center where a doctor promises "he will be dead within a few days" if he starts to use again, and where Frey spends two agonizing months of detox confronting "The Fury" head on:
"I want a drink. I want fifty drinks. I want a bottle of the purest, strongest, most destructive, most poisonous alcohol on Earth. I want fifty bottles of it. I want crack, dirty and yellow and filled with formaldehyde. I want a pile of powder meth, five hundred hits of acid, a garbage bag filled with mushrooms, a tube of glue bigger than a truck, a pool of gas large enough to drown in. I want something anything whatever however as much as I can."

What's the last thing you read that hit close to home?