I pour myself a simple drink. I’m happy as it goes down. I take the drink…it instantly makes my whole body relax and brings a small smile to my face. Isn’t it great? How can something so simple make me feel so good?
After a few drinks, my drink takes a drink. My drinks beforehand tell me to drink more. I know I’ll feel bad tomorrow, but all that matters is right now. I’m feeling good, and God forbid I let that feeling diminish.
I don’t want to drink. The feeling in my stomach tells me I’m done for the night. The drowsiness permeating my body tells me I’m done for the night. Without wanting to, my hands move toward the bottle. I pour it into my mouth and down my throat, excited about how great this is going to feel and kicking myself for how I’m going to feel tomorrow.
I have taken a drink. The drink has taken a drink. The drink has taken me.
