I used to drink vodka mixed with pineapple juice while eating bought fried chicken and watching bad comedies on TV. That was so satisfying. The alcohol made the comedy quite funny, in spite of the poor writing and bad puns Tearing the greasy chicken from its bones like a tiger tearing meat from a freshly killed carcass was absolutely delightful. And the pineapple juice sweetened the deal, overpowering the burn of the vodka and tasting just wonderful. It was perfect, at least until I wasn’t hungry anymore. Alas, once the hunger subsided the nausea came on. With the nausea I realized how much I really drank and began to find the television loud and annoying as hell. The bitter reality was setting in, and only then did I think about the consequences of my actions. But before the aftermath of vomiting and headaches, before the bitterness truly set in, for a few brief moments, life was perfect. Perfect. I was laughing out loud at things I wouldn’t normally find funny and had suspected were funny by most other  people. I was eating a satisfying meal and drinking glorious pineapple juice that appeased my pallet. But in the end I decide that it wasn’t worth it. That the pain was too much to compensate the joy.But I still romanticise about those fleeting moments of pure happiness and wish that time could stand still at that point forever.