Drinking is my ultimate downfall. Some days it turns me into someone I’m not. Or at least someone I like to hide. It kills certain demons just long enough for others to emerge. For that alone is a demon in itself. One that gets stronger every time I give in. Every time I stop fighting is another step closer to a final demolition. An internal destruction. A battle that I lost long before it started for my strength diminishes with every taste of temporary bliss. It flees at a moments notice and cowers within the darkest depths of my soul. Strength, which I now know as a permanent weakness, will soon flounder among the ruins of myself that get left behind. The demons will soon feast on remnants to make them all but non existent. That’s what drinking is. It’s a killer and one that most days I still happily allow entrance. For a simple taste of death is all it takes to want it to be a permanent residence.