Some thoughts on drinking (September 2026)

There is a negotiation which I have with myself every time I am presented with an opportunity to get drunk. The decision to get drunk is despite all good sense - it is not a problem of knowledge or understanding. What tilts the balance in favor of the bottle is an innate desire to experience a high like never before - it is the search of an elusive high, a numbness not yet experienced. I keep drinking, week after week, but that high never comes. I get drunk, and it follows the usual course, from the bar to the bathroom, and then to the bed, with a pill in the hand next day. I ruin myself in the chase. Years and bottles go by.

Now, I am convinced that the high I chase does not exist.
I can never get as drunk as I think I can. And, without that chance existing, there is no novelty in drinking.

The boozy tinged perception of a drinking experience, the one which is shown and written about, and to be honest, the one which I have also experienced (or I think I have, can never be too sure with alcohol infused memories), a dream of perpetual numbness and exhilaration - it no longer aligns with reality, instead what bites is a realization of its non-existence.

Its time I quit. There is nothing coming out of it. Social drinking is not really my style, I drink for the sake of drinking, till my face is numb, my tongue is loose, my brain is black, and every note of the night hits perfectly on my altered perception of everything. I no longer can drink that way, and if I cannot drink that way, I rather not drink. Absolutely nothing in moderation.