You have become my intoxicating beverage of choice, the warming liquid I consume knowing all the while I will regret it in the morning. You’re the fluids in my throat, stomach and mouth churning with the motions I put myself through and the food I ate a few hours ago. Everything about you makes me sick and yet I can’t seem to get enough of you. Your existence is what makes it taste so bad, but your presence is the alcohol that makes it so damn addictive. You’ve become a habit that I am so desperate to break because the more I pursue you the more they begin to look down at me. This isn’t about loosening up and not being afraid anymore, this is me trying to convince myself you’re not half as bad as I came to believe.