I used to never touch alcohol — just the occasional sip at New Year's or on my birthday. Back then, I was certain that liquor was nothing but an extravagant accessory, something life could easily do without. But as time went on, I gradually became addicted to it, because it became my only escape from reality. Every time I tilted my head back and let that icy liquid burn down my throat, it felt like a ticket to a utopia — a place with no regrets and no sorrow.
Numbed by alcohol, I could temporarily forget life's bitterness and all those dreams that never came true. With each drink, the intoxication deepened, and I'd find a kind of peace in the endless night — though it was always fleeting. But when morning light crept into the room, I'd have to face reality again, with all its cruelty and deep regret.
If there's a next life, I'd rather be a cat. That way, I wouldn't have to struggle to make a living or deal with all the hardships of reality. A cat's life is full of warmth and affection — like a cozy harbor in some other world. I long for that kind of life, one that requires no effort, where you just bask in being loved — even if it's just a desperate fantasy born from my current situation. But no fantasy can change reality. Every time I look at myself in the mirror through bleary, drunken eyes, I feel an endless sorrow and a deep pang of regret. Alcohol can't heal the wounds inside — it only numbs the surface, lets me forget for a little while. In the end, I still have to face all those unfulfilled wishes and that bottomless sense of loss, and keep struggling through reality.
Day 201 of 2024
I used to never touch alcohol — just the occasional sip at New Year's or on my birthday. Back then, I was certain that liquor was nothing but an extravagant accessory, something life could easily do without. But as time went on, I gradually became addicted to it, because it became my only escape from reality. Every time I tilted my head back and let that icy liquid burn down my throat, it felt like a ticket to a utopia — a place with no regrets and no sorrow.
Numbed by alcohol, I could temporarily forget life's bitterness and all those dreams that never came true. With each drink, the intoxication deepened, and I'd find a kind of peace in the endless night — though it was always fleeting. But when morning light crept into the room, I'd have to face reality again, with all its cruelty and deep regret.
If there's a next life, I'd rather be a cat. That way, I wouldn't have to struggle to make a living or deal with all the hardships of reality. A cat's life is full of warmth and affection — like a cozy harbor in some other world. I long for that kind of life, one that requires no effort, where you just bask in being loved — even if it's just a desperate fantasy born from my current situation. But no fantasy can change reality. Every time I look at myself in the mirror through bleary, drunken eyes, I feel an endless sorrow and a deep pang of regret. Alcohol can't heal the wounds inside — it only numbs the surface, lets me forget for a little while. In the end, I still have to face all those unfulfilled wishes and that bottomless sense of loss, and keep struggling through reality.