You're Flying

To me there is no night and day. Everything is just a blur full of loud music, swaying bodies, flashing lights, and intoxication. The question of who or what I do has never crossed my mind. The only reason I know morning from night is because the morning is when I spew the toxins from the previous night into the toilet, then I just go back and do it all again.

Alcohol. The word itself is better then heaven to people like me. I'm an alcoholic, and I know it, but it doesn't faze me at all. It runs my life and I don't mind that little fact one bit. Saying that I drink it would be an understatement. I inhale it, breathe it, live for it. It takes all my troubles away. It's like I don't have a care in the world, I'm just flying through life.

One of my most clearest memories is of the first time I ever had alcohol. I have always been attracted to its smell, taste, and appearance. I was only eleven years old, and it was just a simple Bud Light that I had stolen from my Dad's fridge, but God, it was heaven on my tongue. It's so welcoming to me, but not everyone agrees with me. I know it's ruining my life but do I give a damn? No, I don't. It ruins the lives of people around me too. Want to know what I think? If they're stupid enough to get involved with an alcoholic they should have their lives ruined.

Everything about alcohol is intoxicating. The only downfall of it all is the next morning, when you're puking your guts out. After drinking for so long, it doesn't effect me anymore. It takes away all my worries, allowing me to not give a damn about life. An example would be right now.

I have no idea how many drinks I've had. Maybe seven or eight? I don't care. I have a high tolerance for alcohol. I start to make my way around the house, stumbling and tripping over scattered beer cans and unconscious bodies. Thank God I know how to hold my liquor and am not as soft as these dumbasses. I finally find my companion and best friend, Quince, and together we barrel our way out of the door, taking advantage of the last bits of liquor we could get our hands on before we had to get in the car.

I don't have to worry about right and wrong when I'm drunk. There is no wrong, everything's right. Who wouldn't want to live a life like that? We both get in the vehicle, Quince being the driver. He shoves the keys into the ignition and guns the engine immediately. We didn't even bother with out seat belts.

We're both so fucking wasted we don't even realize how bad we're swerving. We're lucky as fuck that there are no cops around at the moment. We're laughing our asses off as we talk about some of the most useless shit in the world, but in our intoxicated minds are considered the most important things on the planet.

Out of nowhere I see bright lights coming at us, fast. I temporarily freak out. Is it our time already? There's two lights... Are they taking us both together? I'm taken out of my thoughts when Quince swerves at the last minute and hits the guard rail with a loud 'bang.' He just saved our lives! He just fucking missed the car and it's two special headlights that we're going to take us away. He is a God.

We both looked at each other and simultaneously started cracking up again. At this rate, we could honestly die of laughter. The episode that just happened moments before was already forgotten.

Alcohol...

It controls both of our lives and we're both too stupid to think of the consequences.

How could you be expected to hate something that makes you feel so good?