Just A Little Taste

As I sat at the bar, I couldn’t help but feel like I had found my new best friend. Hard liquor had always been my go-to, but it had been getting to me lately. I needed something lighter, something I could drink all day without completely losing control. That’s when I turned to beer. At first, I was hesitant. The smell of it used to disgust me, but the more I sipped, the better it tasted. The sensation was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It was crisp and refreshing, with just a hint of bitterness. The carbonation tingled on my tongue, and I felt a rush of excitement and euphoria course through my veins. As I continued to drink, the world around me seemed to fade away. My problems disappeared, my anxiety melted away, and I felt a sense of calm. Everything felt good, and I felt invincible. I ordered pint after pint, savoring the taste and the feeling of it in my mouth. I loved how it made me feel, how it made everything seem just a little bit better. I was hooked. I know that I should have seen the warning signs. I was drinking more and more, losing control, and pushing away the people who cared about me. But in that moment, it was all worth it. I was happy, I was content, and I was on top of the world. It was a simpler time, before the addiction had taken hold, before everything had spiraled out of control. It was the beginning of a dangerous path, one that would lead me down a dark road of addiction and self-destruction. Soon the smell of beer became the very perfume seeping through my pores. It was a dangerous game, but one that I couldn’t resist. I’d often spend nights at Alonzo’s house, watching American Pie II, planning a booze party while pounding back Coors Light tall cans. Crawling across the hallway back to my mother’s apartment seemed like an accomplishment, and I took pride in getting hammered.