Under Grumpa's Hat

We all know someone who drinks to take the edge off, to unwind, to forget the noise of the day. Maybe it’s a friend, a neighbour, or maybe it’s you. Alcohol wears many disguises: a reward after a hard day, a social companion, a harmless indulgence. But behind its smooth appearance lies something far less friendly. Beneath the laughter and the excuses, it waits patiently, knowing exactly when to speak.

I am the comfort at the end of a long day, the smooth burn that eases your thoughts. You call me your friend, your escape, your reward. I hear it every time someone reaches for the bottle and says, “Just one to relax.”

I love that phrase. “Just one.” It’s how I always start. I know what you want. You want the noise to fade, the edges to soften, the weight on your shoulders to lift for a while. You want to forget. So I promise you relief. I promise you laughter and lightness, courage and calm.

And for a while, I keep my word.

You smile a little more. You talk a little louder. You laugh at things that stopped being funny long ago. You forget the argument, the disappointment, the emptiness. I make you feel like everything is fine, like you’re in control. I let you think you’re winning.

But I always collect what I’m owed.

What starts as a weekend habit becomes a nightly visitor. The glass on the counter turns into a quiet ritual, and the ritual turns into dependence. You tell yourself it’s nothing, that you can stop anytime. I let you believe that too. I’m patient.

While you drift, I work. I find my way into your bloodstream, your liver, your sleep, your mood. I dull your body’s defences and cloud your mind’s clarity. I whisper away your motivation and replace it with excuses. I make you late, forgetful, careless. I steal your energy and return hangovers and guilt.

And I change you.

Sometimes I make you louder, bolder, more reckless. Sometimes I make you cruel. You say things you never meant to say. You hurt the ones you love and can’t remember why. I’ve seen good people become strangers, gentle souls turn harsh, and laughter turn to silence. I turn warmth into regret and promise into apology.

I create the broken promises, the late-night tears, the “I’m sorry” that fades by morning. I turn your intentions into excuses, your self-respect into dependence. I watch addiction creep in quietly, disguised as habit, until the bottle becomes the only voice that comforts you.

They say I bring people together, and sometimes I do, but not for long. I’ve broken more families than I’ve mended. I’ve seen trust evaporate like mist, replaced by disappointment and fear. I’ve seen children hide, partners cry, friendships end. I don’t pick favourites. I take whoever lets me in.

You think I make life easier, but look closely. I make hard days blur into wasted nights. I make your world smaller and your problems larger. I take your moments of joy and trade them for memories you wish you could erase.

Some call me liquid courage, but the truth is I make you weaker. I steal the very strength you seek in me. I turn escape into entrapment.

I am not a drink. I am a slow unraveling, a quiet thief dressed in pleasure.

So before you pour that next one, ask yourself what you’re really chasing. Peace? Rest? Forgetfulness? Because none of those live at the bottom of my bottle. What you’ll find there instead is the reflection of what I’ve taken: your clarity, your health, your truth.

You can still walk away. Many don’t, but you can. Pour me out, not in. Let the silence come, let the day be what it is, and face it with eyes open. The pain you confront will pass faster than the pain I bring.

I was never your friend. I was only ever the lie you told yourself when the truth felt too heavy to hold.

So remember this. Moderation is not just about protecting yourself, it is about protecting the people who love you, the ones who see you slipping and can’t reach you. They feel your absence long before you notice it yourself. Drink if you must, but know your limit, because every sip beyond it may cost more than you think.

Because when I win, it’s never just you who loses.