My first LOVE

I used to hate drinking. I hated what it turned people into.  I especially hated how alcohol made personalities change... angry drunks specifically. Relatability and acceptance to me operated under the same definition. So, I too, began to drink. It allowed me to develop bonds with my loved ones that I likely would’ve never had. In hindsight that was probably one of my more regrettable actions, it disallowed them to know the real me and vice versa. The more I was around beer the more I started to enjoy it on my own. Squinty eyes and a huge smile, they acted as my mask, I was an absolute joy to be around. My facade took a turn when I started to drink with problems weighing on my shoulders, which resulted in those problems getting heavier and heavier. I wanted to drown the deafening screams of my internal pain. I became the mean drunk, you know the one. The one nobody wanted to be around. I would want to fight and express myself through anger. All because I didn't know how to communicate like a normal human being and express my feelings. I would do it when the love of my life would step in for me and allow me to behave foolishly. Isn’t that how love works though? It makes you do stupid shit when you know you’ll regret it?