Balance is key. Stay composed. Do not smile too much. Make sure you don’t act all sad either. Know your limits. As long as you do not draw too much attention to yourself, you will be fine. After all, you’re a writer. Every great creative soul had an addiction. You are drinking among legends. Cheers.

These are the mantras of the creators. Justification in its purest form.

The pitter-patter of fingers drumming on the keyboard comes to an abrupt halt as he lifts them up to take another sip. There it is. The burn he craves is better than ever this time. He can feel the cold, clear liquid as it rushes down his throat, and he senses the warmth of blood humming from his torso to his extremities as sobriety takes another leave of absence. In one smooth motion, he places his hand on the keyboard once again.

He is the victim of a type of heaviness that seems to constantly follow those cursed with creativity. Family members and friends that do not face this burden tell him they are concerned. Every few weeks,  he humors their accusations by making another promise to quit or slow down. Every few weeks he finds an easier way to hide it. When they begin to wonder if he is at it again, he releases his latest masterpiece, and they second guess their apprehensions. He tells them writing is how he copes. Drinking is how he writes. It holds back any inhibition, allowing his muse to truly take over.

“Maybe he is right,” they think to themselves. “Maybe he is the exception to the rule. After all, he is a writer. Every creative soul had an addiction. He is drinking among champions.”



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