The drunk is a strange creature, often pitied or despised by the community at large. They mill around aimlessly, forever trapped in an alcohol-induced state of inebriation, all by their own hand. It’s despicable. It’s gross to see a human poison themself in such a manner day after day. It eats away at their social life and their well-being. It’s sheer and utter madness, the ailment that is being an alcoholic
But I think that’s bullshit.
I prefer to see the glass half-full, usually of scotch or whisky or something similar; something alcoholic. I dare someone to find something that imitates that smooth burning sensation in the pit of my stomach after a glass of red wine. It’s calming. It makes me feel alive. Only every so often can one feel what is happening inside their body. Some strong drink provides insight to the outline of my esophagus and stomach.
And the feeling of being drunk, oh, it’s so wonderful. To rob one’s self of such joy could be considered criminal. A sadistic form of masochism where reality is all that there is. All of your body becomes weightless as your movements become more fluid in its motions. Oh how I adore the sweet tingling feeling at the ends of my fingers as I plunge into the wondrous cavern of intoxication. It’s pure bliss.
I dare say I even become more sophisticated when I drink. My words flow from my brain to my neurons and out of my mouth into the conscience world seamlessly, with no hesitation or breaks in my speech. The things I never dared say out loud become acceptable, and my mind lets these thoughts tumult into brilliant ideas. As my mind becomes verbal due to all of the alcohol, my theories and ideas become more developed, as I don’t impede myself by keeping them all trapped within the confines of my skull.
Social situations I would never dare cast myself into become the center of my desire. All I want to do is talk and talk and talk until the sunrises and sets again and into the next morning. The people I once despised become the best of friends, and those I hold dear become entities of such wonder and fascination that I hardly am able to keep myself from calling each and every one of them on my phone.
I’m never expected to drive. All I worry about is getting drunk, and everyone else is willing to take care of the rest. If I go out with a group of people, through my intoxication it is understood that I should be left with no responsibility other than to my own personal safety, and all the in-betweens will come together as they need to be addressed, one by one. I am allowed to relinquish my duties to other people and fulfill the duty of enjoying myself.
Last, but certainly not least, I become honest. I wouldn’t dare dream of lying to another person when I’m drunk. All questions directed at me are answered to the best of my ability, if not in great lengths when the question required no more than a few words to answer. If honesty is the best policy, then alcohol is the foundation on which that policy stands.
Alcohol is the one thing that keeps life interesting. When it all becomes too mundane, it throws you a real curveball. I like my life to be exciting and strange, so alcohol is the gateway in which I can truly turn the world upside down. I consider it investing in my conscience.
Time spent wasted is not wasted time.