Screw meloncholy, just give me the bottle.

So I've come to a harsh realization in the last year. I absolutely love to drink. I've actually become quite the expert at types of alcohols, how to drink them, what to mix them with, how much to drink, and what "kind" of drunk comes from drinking each type. Now, 16 months ago this would have been unheard of for anyone who knew me. I had always been completely against the consumption of alcohol, whilst my entire family succumbed to alcoholism. But Valentines day 2008, I had my first Blue Hawaiian, then my second, third, and fourth, and I fell head over heels- into the bathtub, naked, incoherent, and covered in vomit. The next morning I didn't even bother standing, I don't think I could have anyway. I just reached up, turned the shower on cold, and washed my night down the drain. Even though I spent all day in bed hungover, I remembered how much fun I'd had the night before; and at that point, I was hooked. My beverage of choice is a good sweet cream Sake, chilled- I can't stand it warm; I'm also a sucker for a light rum, straight, over ice. I used to look at my mother, sisters, aunts, and other various family members as if they were weak and self-loathing for letting themselves become addicted to something so unhealthy. I watched them tear apart their lives because of it, destroy their relationships with each other and everyone around them. I vowed to never become that, to never allow anything to become more important to me than the people I love. I learned when to stop drinking, depending on which type of alcohol I'm drinking. I know which feelings to respond to, and which are okay to just enjoy. I LOVE to drink, but I will never be an alcoholic.