Just sipping

A longing for a fantasy. A recuring memory. Contradiction. A paradox that can only live in the chaos of a forever unfocused mind. Like a parasite, hiding there at the edge of the shadows, always just outside the light of rational thought.

I just want to feel, like I did that night.

Just another shot. But I never drink anymore, always just stick to sipping. Too afraid of loosing control, and desperately craving to loose it.

Control of what exactly?