MY VARIOUS ATTEMPTS AT BEING A DRUNKARD
(Damn, I tried.)
I wanted to become a drunk in honor of my father
––or was it that I felt fated to become a drunk in honor of my father, and tried to meet my destiny head-on before it could catch me
––or was it that I had a lot of demons I wanted to keep back down in their hell-hole deep inside me, and I didn't know any better way to do that than to drink like my dad did
––or was it all genetic
––or did I drink because it was the most socially acceptable way to desecrate myself
––or was it that I let myself get suckered into the old "drowning sorrows" bullshit that never works, because booze just feeds the sorrows
Regardless of my motivations for trying to become a drunk, I've never been able to pull it off. Too much fundamental self-respect, maybe? A lucky combination of genes? I've skirted the edge of the precipice, I've flirted with flinging myself over the precipice, I've gotten into trouble I didn't think I could get myself out of. But at the end of the day, I've always been able to say "that's enough" and move on.
So I guess I wasn't fated, genetically or otherwise. Or I lucked out. Or I made some good decisions. Or I was blessed. Or The Force had other plans for me. The drunkard version of me never fully emerged. But here's the story of how it almost did.
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