/lit/ - Literature

>>5776362
What? Me? No, I'm fine. Just going out for a pint with the lads.

Always had this problem with the idea of alien substances affecting the way I perceive life as I grew up. I've never grown up being a particularly social or happy person but I could accept depression as long as I knew that I was working on making it better and I didn't need a substance to influence that. Into high school I had managed to stave off attempting the influence until one summer when I was hanging with a girl I had a hopeless infatuation for. She was the symbol of rebellion and being under the influence of substances but it didn't mean much to me because I liked her because of who she was. So when she got the chance it only took her a couple hours to pressure me into breaking my standing on the matter. I drank and I felt funny and my mind was numb. It didn't hurt so much to think of how I didn't matter at all to her, or that I wasn't ever a happy person. At least on occasion I could forget it with the excuse of drinking for events or in the company of friends. It started out on odd occasions, but seeking her acceptance I was trying to go to parties and be like the kind of outstanding rebel she would be interested in. In the end I mostly drank with friends and the time between drinking became less and less. Handful of times a year to once a month, to once a week, twice a week. By the time I was drinking three to four times a week I was drinking alone and sitting in front of my computer. Hating myself like I always had but also upset with what I had become, jobless except helping the family business which is dead in the winter season I drank to stop thinking about the lack of direction my life had. I started to control it more but still drink one or two times a week even if I'm alone. Won't accept any more drugs into my life though my friends want me to join in on the fun, I already have one addiction I'm ashamed of. But I can't think of a good reason to stop so I don't.