Friday, June 17, 2011

Dear Alcohol,

I only ever got to know you intimately in high school. You promised that you would help me feel secure and you did sometimes, but I only took you in in small doses at the time. But our relationship started way before then, mother and father welcomed you into our home, way before I was born, I think, because I remember you just always being there. I remember always wanting to grip onto that green can or clear glass bottle. I suppose your offerings were much sweeter in the era of dreams, dolls and diapers since I actually remember enjoying you. Later on you became forbidden, the adults spread rumours about you, yet still maintained a smile to your face. You kept on being welcomed into my house; soon we got you a house of your own in our house. You all sat there in stillness during the day, in the ‘bar.’ When night-time came you mingled with the adults, they seemed to enjoy you and bring you to all their social gatherings.

You were friends of mother and father and I decided secretly to befriend you too. Your acquaintance made a bitter impression on my tongue and you left my throat so scorched, I thought we would never hang out again, but we did. We hung out so often that by the time I was sixteen I was immune to the charred sensation you left in my gullet. I even knew specifically how I liked you, I liked you in the spirit form, and the kind without the gas or sugar coated fake flavouring. I liked you raw and naked and clear. I only sipped and gulped then. I ingested your companionship regularly between the ages of fifteen and seventeen but still only sipping. I used to brag about the way I would get so drunk, I never really did.

Once you made me feel really happy and in love, that was when I hooked up with you at a bar with a couple of girlfriends. I laughed at the world and embraced the people around me. That was the first time you made me actually forget. Forget my insecurities. That’s when I realised why the adults had such a strong firm solid bond with you.

I weaned off you for a while because I felt people might suspect me of being a drinker. Age eighteen came around and it was time for me to leave home... and there you were waiting for me in Malaysia, your house was bigger now and you had grown so obese, much bigger than I remember. You presented yourself with different costumes and outfits; you had a complete makeover. You appeared in all sorts of colours and shapes. You had become so sexy, interesting and popular. I didn’t know specifically how I liked you anymore, but I did want to get to know you like my friends did. I wanted to get to know you and all your different personalities.

I was so excited to meet you again, I didn’t even bother with the small talk but at the end of the night found myself exclaiming gibberish to the world, that only you could understand.

Not only did I adore the new you, I enjoyed your new talents and capabilities. I thought you were so wonderful the way you would allow me to lose all my inhibitions in your presence. Ah and another thing, I simply couldn’t resist: the way you forged bonds and friendships between me and others.

You temporarily healed me and halted my vexations. I cared about you intensely. The passion, fire, flame and fuel inevitably led me to get burnt . And burn I did.

I felt betrayed. I felt entangled in a love-hate relationship that I did not plan. Why did you destroy me and my perspective?

It took great effort to gain back my ground; I had to break-up with you for some time. The hardest part of the break up was surviving .I can still smell the ashes when I get too close to loving you that way. I don’t struggle with you much anymore, because I made a decision not to let you in too close. You had fooled me and blinded me; I did not see your deceptiveness. Don’t you feel ashamed?

If you want to know what I did to overcome you, you will have to have an understanding of a higher faith, but you cannot because you are just a bottle of liquid filled with a fake and temporary spirit. The difference between you and I dear bottle, is that your spirit can fade and slip through my d digestive structure. My skin, unlike your glass or aluminium can heal when torn or broken, but more importantly my spirit is real. It will never break or fade like yours. You know this already; I just wanted you to know that I know too now.

You don’t bother me because I believe I am stronger, so whether you are in my life or not I now understand who we each are.

Yours truly,

An old acquaintance.