Good Morning (for, you must be awfully bored of the mass Good Evenings)!
As I greet you I am reminded of the many times when I have indeed greeted you along, or right after breakfast. You have been the only cause of deep discord in my family, you have been the apparent cause of disgust, distance, and death. And in spite of it all, you reign. I have always harbored a mixed feeling towards you, and this need to address you generates from that feeling of want.
I have taken to you -- as classicists would confirm -- fish take to water. Many people mentioned it is genetic, this appetite for you. Many others say it is curated. Few believe that I hate it all. Yes, I do, both, hate and love you. There are times when my heart and body aches for you, and when you first touch me it is like liquid gold lighting up each of my cells and pouring a magic potion into my heart beat. There are also times when I resist you like nobody's business. And then are those mornings of pining for you. When I feel that a shot of you could help me through the whole day. Friends say I am an alcoholic because I don't pass out. But then why would I? I like you consciously. The warmth of rum, the mature roundness of a scotch, the chill of a beer, the joy of gin with innovative mixers -- life just feels complete in my clutch.
But you have ruined me. And I can never forgive myself for that. What did you think, I would blame you for that? Never. You are a good sort, why would I? It is my lack of restrain that I cannot but go back towards you. It is that one thing (yes, the other one too) which I think I will leave on each 31st December, and end up not following twenty-fours into it. It is only for you that my mother has felt I have taken more to my Dad than to her, and broken down and apart. But obviously, she is into the melodramatics. You made me from where you ruined me too. I had the hostility towards you to keep you away for a good couple of years and then love overpowered, but now I yearn for you judiciously.
As I just complete three decades of living and being, I see and admit how integral you have been towards my growth and development. This letter was certainly not meant to complain, or crib. How does one have the heart to cry about something as divine as, say a loaded brownie? One can't, one shouldn't. I write you this to promise that I will never again abandon you, but I will also not let you overpower me, like the last 31st. I do not care if it was pain, or suffering, or basic boredom, I would only care for taste.
Test me,
K.
As I greet you I am reminded of the many times when I have indeed greeted you along, or right after breakfast. You have been the only cause of deep discord in my family, you have been the apparent cause of disgust, distance, and death. And in spite of it all, you reign. I have always harbored a mixed feeling towards you, and this need to address you generates from that feeling of want.
I have taken to you -- as classicists would confirm -- fish take to water. Many people mentioned it is genetic, this appetite for you. Many others say it is curated. Few believe that I hate it all. Yes, I do, both, hate and love you. There are times when my heart and body aches for you, and when you first touch me it is like liquid gold lighting up each of my cells and pouring a magic potion into my heart beat. There are also times when I resist you like nobody's business. And then are those mornings of pining for you. When I feel that a shot of you could help me through the whole day. Friends say I am an alcoholic because I don't pass out. But then why would I? I like you consciously. The warmth of rum, the mature roundness of a scotch, the chill of a beer, the joy of gin with innovative mixers -- life just feels complete in my clutch.
But you have ruined me. And I can never forgive myself for that. What did you think, I would blame you for that? Never. You are a good sort, why would I? It is my lack of restrain that I cannot but go back towards you. It is that one thing (yes, the other one too) which I think I will leave on each 31st December, and end up not following twenty-fours into it. It is only for you that my mother has felt I have taken more to my Dad than to her, and broken down and apart. But obviously, she is into the melodramatics. You made me from where you ruined me too. I had the hostility towards you to keep you away for a good couple of years and then love overpowered, but now I yearn for you judiciously.
As I just complete three decades of living and being, I see and admit how integral you have been towards my growth and development. This letter was certainly not meant to complain, or crib. How does one have the heart to cry about something as divine as, say a loaded brownie? One can't, one shouldn't. I write you this to promise that I will never again abandon you, but I will also not let you overpower me, like the last 31st. I do not care if it was pain, or suffering, or basic boredom, I would only care for taste.
Test me,
K.
2 comments:
You should have ended the letter saying , " spiritually yours". Just emagine if alcohol replies to ur letter what would the begin with :)
What would the bottle begin with :)
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