Six years ago I left my house and went for a night out in Birmingham.
Thirty-six hours later, I woke up, partially clothed, by the side of a road in Redditch. It was 5am. I was covered in my own faeces, stinking of urine and covered in sick.
There were blue lights everywhere. Both the police and ambulance crews thought I was the victim of a hit-and-run. I’d collapsed. And to this day I have no idea how I got there.
