The night was a blur, the tears a reminder of something, that eventually would become my biggest regret.

They told me it was wonderful. That it washed away the pain. They told me I’d never forget the taste of it. They told me it would perfect the night, that it would make the room look brighter, and the pain feel duller.
They didn’t tell me it would make me cry myself to sleep every night. They forget to mention that it never lets you live a normal life again. I don’t remember them saying that, although it did wash away the pain, the pain of the addiction was far worse. They forgot to mention that I would regret every moment of that night.

But how could I blame them, when essentially, I was no better or worse than them. How could I say that I would never do what they did.

The addiction is a beast- once you are in its clutches, it never lets you go. Ever.
I cry because it is stifling.
I am tired of just being- I want to live.

























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In retrospect, I have no idea why I went. I have no idea why I felt so happy when he asked. Something about the idea of dancing. Of being pretty. Of having him tell me I was everything he wanted. I didn’t care that he was two months younger, or that he was also two heads shorter. I just wanted to feel loved- I needed him to be my drug, to erase the memories that floated through my endless galaxy of thoughts. I was using him, but aren’t we all?
He picked me up in his Honda. His eyes crinkled in a smile when he saw my fuchsia dress, its glitter sparkling in the moonlight. It was a princess dress, and for tonight, for one night, that fit. For one night, I was a princess.
As I sparkled out the door, my last thought was “Is it possible to forget?”.
I got in his car, excited. I shouldn’t have been. In my life, excitement had always turned to sadness. Fate had never proved that theory wrong. And tonight wasn’t about to be the first time it did.
I
f I could have looked into the future, I never would have entered that door. Little did I know, this moment would forever change my life. This moment would be the beginning of the longest, hardest, most treacherous path I would ever walk. It would change everything.
The party had an overwhelming feel to it. People littered the yard like trash. Some smiled, some smirked, some seemed too drunk to even know what was going on. My heart was racing at the prospect of all these people- I was an introvert by heart.
It didn’t take long for them to come. A matter of hours would be too long, a matter of seconds too short, to calculate how much time it took for them to find me. He must have summoned them, my date that is. If I only I had realized earlier, that he was one of them. They began to talk to me. How I wish they hadn’t. How I wish that they had found some other victim of their drunken assaults. But as you already know, fate was never on my side.

They surrounded me in friendly togetherness, and offered me it. They smiled, and told me I wouldn’t regret it. They said they could sense my pain- they told me it would all be erased.

Thinking back, I don’t know why they did it. Maybe because they wanted to help erase the pain.
Maybe they really did believe that it was the miracle worker. Maybe they were just searching for a face in the crowd, a friend to heal their loneliness. I don’t think I’ll ever know their reason. I don’t think I’ll ever know why. They were the temptresses, and I was merely the pawn.

If only I had refused. If only I had said no to their offers. Maybe I would still be free from the beast’s clutches.
It tasted bitter but profusely sweet. It sang down my throat. I felt alive. It made me forget. And for one blinding instant, I felt immensely and unabashedly happy.
Did I know at that instant that I would become addicted? Of course not. It took months for me to realize it. And when I say months, I mean to say that it took however long it takes to become completely and utterly in the grasp of the monster. So far in that I couldn’t imagine a world with freedom from the addiction. So far in that I began to lose reality. So far in that I could pretend that I had forgotten the memories.
I used to think of them as the alcohol junkies, but after that night, I had more compassion. I understood. Because after that night I became one of them. The beast became my master, just as it was theirs.
I cried myself to sleep for months, wishing I could take back that night. The night where I first met the beast. Wishing I had been smarter. Wishing I could have seen what exactly I was getting into, before the addiction hit me.















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I know you reader. You are the one who sees me as another person to feel bad for. You read this story and wonder why I wrote it. Was it for pity? To show that it was not my fault? No. It was my fault. I was the one who took the sip. The one who went to the party. No one forced me to. No one warped my brain. They merely tempted, and can I be so mad at them for that? I merely write this to tell you one thing. The beast is there. He is always there. Be careful- once you are in his clutches, you are never free.