Dear Alcohol,

We need to talk. It’s been over a decade now and it’s time we addressed some long-repressed issues.

Sure, we started off great. I remember the night we met at the bar. I was innocent and you were a promise of freedom, an antidote to fear. I remember the room well. It was like something from a Parisian noir. The lights were dim. Smoke hovered over the room, dissipating at eye level, stinging back my sense of sincerity. You sat on the edge of the table, smooth-chill-sexy, flirty with a twinkle in your eye. I embraced your curves, kissed your lip, and your poured your spirit into me. Right away I knew we were meant to be. You went down smooth, a fire in my stomach that enlivened my mind. A loss of inhibition flowing unimpeded through time.

You taught me to be myself. Encouraged me to dream. You, liquid courage, washing away my themes of self-doubt, fear, and lies. Telling the truth boldly … and worldwide. We were kings and queens of parties. You inspired me to sing. We moved to ancient rhythms. There’s nothing we couldn’t be. From Paris to Atlanta, from New York to BC, I wasn’t scared to travel because you were always there with me. A source of serene comfort though you sickened me at night. I always defended your presence. I always loved the sight… of you. 

Recently something’s changed. We don’t go out anymore. We don’t make art, sing, or dance. Now we just sit on couches waiting for headaches to start. I need you for comfort because I’ve never been more afraid; You need me for my money so you can stay in bed. Our spirits, once one in tandem, now battle in our minds. Battling for control, money, and time. We never see each other unless we’re in a fight, hypnotizing my will, forgetting entire nights. 

We once were a rushing river, never beginning, never end. Only flowing with momentum creating worlds, not dead ends. Now we’re stagnant water, festering in disease, breeding brain-eating amoebas, broke and scared and fleeting. You’ve taken all my money. You’ve robbed me of all my friends. You’re sabotaging my marriage. Now it’s time for this to come to an end. 

When I think of you I’ll remember your smooth warm glassy bite. I’ll remember our life of ecstasy, but I hope to forget the lies. You’ll always be as sexy as the curves you dipped in wax, but I must start thinking clearly and conquer my fear without the tax. We can’t stay so dependent. You’ll need to stay on the shelf. And find yourself another sucker willing to drink himself to death.

I’m going to take communion and baptize you out of my life, submerged in soul and romance, and pray for eternal life. You’ve been a fun partner, but now I must say “adieu”. I’m sure I’ll see you on every corner, but I must pretend I never knew you.