The day could begin so classy, or innocently. Olives and crackers and feta cheese, a high-line party thrown by some big-wig production company.
10 hours later I could end up waking on a subway train seat, articles of mine missing. No recollection of what I’ve done, where I’ve been the last 5 hours. No idea what I have done to whom, and vice versa.
Once the first drop hits the brain, the signal all-of-a-sudden becomes “I can handle this, it’s not that bad. I am in control. I can have another”
Ten drinks later, sloppily stumbling into people and embarrassing myself on the street, incoherently speaking, looking for another place to drink, much more prone to violence…still saying the same thing, “I can handle this, it’s not that bad. I am in control. I can have another”