Work Text:
As many a person has say in your life
How you choose your life is unto you
May you not let yourself become a slave to a bottle or needle, and present them as your passions
Of course, you may say you can stop and it's not bad now
But in a year? Five years? Ten?
You will crave the burn of alcohol or the feeling of pills sliding down your throat, working its way into your bloodstream
Maybe the sharp pain than relief of intoxication
Perhaps smoking is more your fancy
You will need your fix constantly
You will lash out at the ones you love until nobody is left to witness your descent into madness
May you not end as my father hath, years deep into a fixation he is sure not to shake