Dear, alcohol.

You came into my life sort of unexpected.

My dad fell in love with you first, he never really drank much when I was young.

When my dad got injured and lost his job, you were there to comfort him. He seemed very grateful.

Soon my mom figured out about your connection with my dad, she joined in.

My dad, at this point… was addicted to you. He would give more time to you, than to his own kids.

You brought out his anger.

You made him feel powerful.

You took the pain away…

He’d start picking me up from school drunk, you and him never seemed to care about the dangers. It was a connection like no other. He’d spend about 20-ish dollars each day, sometimes less for shooters and he had no shame.

Soon, you took over everything. One night, my dad wasn’t himself. He blames it on you. Like a possession, he no longer cared for protecting his children and his now ex wife.

3 years later, my father still loves you. Not as much as my mother, she drinks you every night. Blames her shaking on her “tremors.” In reality, she’s just addicted.

You have taken a liking for both of my parents, you cling to them harder than ever now since they aren’t together. My mom has found someone who will indulge with her… and you.

I hope you know how much you’ve affected my parents. This is what you wanted, right?

She’ll offer shots to me, she’ll buy me seltzers. Sometimes, I think to myself you aren’t that bad. I don’t react like they do… but I know you’re hiding, lurking behind the corner to take ahold of me.

Dear alcohol, I hope you move on. You’re probably stressed by how often my parents indulge, your bottles don’t even last a day.