Sweet Poison.

Why is it that when I take a shot of vodka my mind whispers to me, “I’m Sorry”? 

I want to enjoy the moment when a shot of 99 Proof scratches the inside my throat, tickles my every nerve and eases my mind to a blissful paradise. These are the seconds I look forward to after a long day of my mind running like a hamster on a wheel, chasing something that’s never quite identified. When my body lifts to release the energy it’s held in, my head throws back because my body forgot how to stand on its own for a few seconds. The feeling is then greeted by a burning sensation near my heart, something that may feel like love, but I remind myself it’s just alcohol.

You can’t love alcohol. You shouldn’t even try. If Alcohol Love was sold in stores, we’d all have the image of a label engraved in our minds. It’d say: Don’t Try This At Home.

It’s just alcohol. And I love it.

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