Where me and Vodka split.

Most people think drinking is tied to depression or anger. I drink to have a good time. Bear with me, I think you should always listen to the words that come after that utterly cliche line before rendering judgement.

A day like today could be so simple, it could be like the other days in fact. I could wake up; shower, shit and shave in the words of my friend Zepeda and be on my way to doing the things I do everyday. Not exactly a repertoire. The same things but in different order, that’s my loophole to sanity.

Today marks an Armageddon of feelings in my yearly calendar. Not my own. But other peoples towards me. Mostly pity. In their voice. On the telephone.

Instead of going about my business like I usually do, I will constantly be interrupted by people calling and asking how I am. People that never call otherwise during the year. Like they are counting on me to be depressed. Maybe even making bets on just how many depress-minded words I use during our exchange. I’m kidding of course, I just find the entire thing funny, and also a waste of everyone’s time.

Completely surprising then that on a day like today, at the end of a night when I’m offered multiple drinks and told happy-go-lucky drunk stories, I will turn down every one of the drinks.

It would only depress me more. I’d end up in my bathroom singing some tune in my boxers, imagining what could have been different those few years back. Not wishing for it, just imagining the possibilities.

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