Tonight, you will rush home from work. For once in your life, you want to do something after spending eight hours in an air-conditioned, quiet office. As you walk home from the bus stop, you get two text messages. Two of your friends are hanging out and they both ask you when you plan on coming over. You respond, "right now".
You arrive, cigarette in mouth, smiling. Your friends are outside and one of them holds your smoke while you walk inside to get a beer. It's one of your favorites, so you drink it down before you finish the smoke you had when you walked in. You think to yourself, you think about the amount of alcohol you drink now compared to the amount you used to drink.
You remember hating the taste of alcohol. You remember grimacing every time you'd take a sip and feeling like you were only drinking because everyone else was drinking. You remember the pressure of being a teenager in a suburban town. You remember those times. And then you laugh.
You laugh because, right now, you love the taste. It tastes like the sweetest juice you've ever had in your life. You feel refreshed, okay, brilliant, and happy. You laugh again. And slam another beer down your throat. You don't even feel yourself breathing. You inhale and your bottle is empty.
You can't remember how much you had to drink. But there is hard liquor in the fridge and you fight every urge you have to take a small (by small, you really mean large) sip of it. You fall over a tin and your friends start to laugh at you. You laugh with them.
They ask you about your life and your job and everything else you are doing. You haven't seen them in a long time and they love hearing you talk. They really love listening to you, you don't understand this. Especially when they tell you that you're a good storyteller. "Fuck that", you think to yourself.
You run through the last month in fifteen minutes. They laugh, they high five you, they smile. You look inside yourself and start searching for that laughter. You start looking for the happiness you felt or are supposed to feel when hanging out with friends.
You suddenly feel alone. You tell them you have to leave. So, you make a really bad decision and get behind the wheel of a car.
You pop in a CD that only has songs you downloaded from YouTube. You skip, skip, skip, skip, skip, skip, skip each track until you find the right one. You turn the volume all the way up. Drop a mint into your mouth and put both hands on the wheel.
You floor it. You floor it like you used to. Like you were praying you were driving towards a brick wall, a train, or a truck. Your phone buzzes and you can see your friends texting you. They are worried. They are worried. Are you listening to me? They're worried. Pull over the car. What are you doing?
You stomp on the gas pedal like you were trying to snap a spinal cord (you pictured your own). Hey, what are you doing? Don't do that! Your grip tightens on the wheel, you grin, and you cut the wheel as hard as you can. Holy shit. Holy shit. What the fuck are you doing?
The tires screech and your car starts spinning. You're so goddamn lucky (Have I said that yet? That you're the luckiest kid on earth) because there aren't any cars on the road or any cops in sight. You, finally, straighten the car out and you start laughing. Why are you laughing? We almost died.
Your phone buzzes, again and again and again and again. You don't answer. But you really should answer right now because at this rate you're probably going to die in your hometown and be another cautionary tale about alcoholism, depression, and suicide. You don't want that do you? Right, you don't. So pull the car over and take a nap.
You pull the car over (Thank God, I was getting scared) and you punch your radio until it breaks. You recline the seat all the way back and think about your decisions.
You should quit, quit, quit, quit, quit, quit, drinking.