If we’re following through with Dry January, we should do it right.
Everything dry.
From chapped lips to sandpaper kisses.
From boring texts to lubeless love.
No icebreakers or foreplay.
No iceberg or Titanic.
No James Cameron come to think of it, since all his movies are in the ocean.
But most importantly, nothing to water down my thoughts with.
Why is booze the first to go? It arguably solves all the aforementioned problems.
I wouldn’t face my glass-half-empty personality without the help of a full glass.
It’s not the end of the world, it’s just the end of my sobriety.
Is there a 31st day of January? I hope not.
The whisky in my glass would call me a failure.
It’s fine, I’ll forget about it tomorrow.
And the next day, and the next, as they keep flowing into each other, like the pair of ice melting into paradise, a place I’d happily drown.