i no longer feel rebellious when i drink in greece

Vodka.  Champagne.  Tsipouro.  Gin with lime.  Wine.  More champagne.  More wine.

The night was late and I could hear their voices.  Silly teenagers drunk to the core.  I filled my ears with Ana Laura music and sunk myself into deep sleep.  Eventually, my eyes would drift and I would no longer hear their loud voices.  Teenagers wasting away and giving their life to a momentary bliss.

I was sixteen and I knew how foolish it was to simply drink into the unknown.  Letting the alcohol take the best of you within a group of horny boys and girls.  For that was their very being – they were lustful and empty.  Seeking a fill, but still always coming up empty.

My logic prevented me from joining in.  A tagging thought rested in the back of my mind.  Stay clear to your normality.  A fearing emotion of the possibilities kept me straight.  I could drink and be merry with those silly teens, but if my mind went wasted, would I ended up regretting the outcome?  I stayed away.

A week of drinking on and off – Friday the focal point.

No guilt staggers my mind for the amount I’ve consumed.  I’d say, it really wasn’t that much.  One drink a night.  Only Friday did I drink extensively.  My glass went half full and I’d fill it up again.  I must have drunk five or six or seven glasses of wine and/or champagne.

I broke two things that night: our water filter and a ‘keep away the mosquitos’ candle.

The thing about my drinking of Friday is that I didn’t feel like I was drunk.  Tipsy, I was maybe, but not drunk.  Not nearly as close to that, no.  I just felt very relaxed.  I knew my body was having a hard time keeping balance, but my mind still felt sharp.  I talked to so many people and felt so at ease.  Normally, I feel a bit on the edge with Greek people.  Some because I know they know me and I know them, but there’s awkward feelings in between.  Or others because I don’t know well.  However, that night, I introduced myself and spoke to people without a care in the world.

I simply did as my mind often wants me to act.

The tension in my shoulders and quiet self wasn’t there to keep me from acting less self-cautious.

I was all over the place.  Conversing with people and walking from one table to another.  So much fun.  I enjoyed myself beyond words.

Alcohol is not a joke.  In the company of trustworthy people and friends it’s enjoyable.  Perhaps, an edge to push us all off our insecurities to actually celebrate in a way our hearts long for – as long as you’re careful.

I am simply intrigued and fascinated by the way this liquid works and the stigma it entails.

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