My first thought was how much it burned going down.

I've seen you drink many times and you always made it look so easy, but as I tilted my head back and let my lips part to allow the poision into my body, I only thought about trying this for myself.

I wanted to see why you went to the bottle rather than to a professional.

Why this was your escape, why we were never good enough.

Tears were streaming down my face, I tasted the salt taste of them as I lowered the bottle away from my mouth.

I started to run to the bathroom, it burned too much, it brought up too many painful memories. I started to retch then, my body and soul rejecting that foul fluid. My body was trying to eject it, but nothing was coming up.

The devils brew is what grandma used to call it. It brought out your worst demons that much is a fact.

I realize that I will never be able to do this, that because of you

I will never to allow this repugnant substance to enter my body.

Not for recreaction, not for relief, not for any reason.

It may seem tempting, but I shall take no part in it