Dear Alcohol,
It seems like I have known you since birth and perhaps I have. That is all my dad did. Towards the end of mom's life, she did a lot of it, too. I love you so much. You are really warm. You make me feel euphoric, then you make me angry. That is the only feeling I seem to have in my bones when you come to visit. You make me hate myself by far further than any human being could. In fact, Alcohol, you make me fail to recognize that people love and care about me. You make me loathe myself and by loathing myself, I project all of those feelings upon others. It makes them hate me.
Last night, I went to Tip-Top to have my last drink. I fell in love with the place the first time I walked into it. Bed-Stuy. It reminds me of Tina's Cozy Corner in North Philly. I'll never forget walking outside of that bar and seeing a guy pointing a gun at another man in the middle of the street. We went back in, in a hurry.
Back to you, my dear, Alcohol. We have to separate. We have to move on. We have to look for other sources of inspiration. I am done with you.
Best and Love,
