Perhaps I'm just prudish, or maybe too sheltered. Or perhaps, it's the slow rise of all the negative thoughts that I chose to bury at the back of my mind rising to the surface like the bubbles of my beer that makes drinking at night unappealing to me. I've never been helplessly inebriated. I've been tipsy once, and that turned out so magnificently that I decided never to let it happen again.
I have control issues. I like keeping control of my thoughts. I've never let go of that control; not even as I watched my car spin out of control after being rear ended by a jeepney at an intersection.
I know I've mentioned that before.
But, as much as I don't like to lose control of my conscious thought, I often lose control of my emotions. I've gone into a tailspin that I couldn't seem to get out of. And, in the haze brought about by these emotional crashes, I sometimes choose to lower my inhibitions in order to lessen the excess baggage and somehow get a grip.
Such is the irony of life.
To be honest, sometimes, I wish I could let loose and be carefree instead of paying for so much control with the irrevocable consequences of feelings that need to be set free under all the pressure of controlled thought. And, for that reason, I find myself envying the helplessly inebriated, sometimes.