At its core, alcohol is ethanol. The same toxic, flammable chemical found in solvents, antiseptics, and fuel.
If someone handed us a bottle labeled mildly diluted poison, we wouldn’t sip it. We’d toss it straight in the bin.
But pour that same poison into a crystal glass, dim the lights, add a story about “flavor” or “tradition,” and suddenly it’s not poison anymore. It’s “sophisticated.” Normal.
That’s the trick we’ve all been taught.
What Alcohol Really Is
Ethanol is toxic to every cell in the human body. That’s not opinion. That’s chemistry.
Our liver doesn’t treat it like food or drink. It treats it like a threat. Its only job in that moment is to break it down and get it out.
And yet, we drink it willingly. Why? Because it’s diluted. Not enough to kill us outright, but just enough to hide the damage for now.
Why Dilution Works
The only reason alcohol feels “safe” is because it’s watered down enough to delay the worst effects.
If it hit us harder, faster, and more visibly, the way it does when someone downs too much too quickly, none of us would touch it.
But because the effects creep in slowly, stretched out over hours, wrapped in ritual, we confuse that delay with safety.
We tell ourselves it’s fine. Normal. Controlled.
It isn’t.
Same Glass, Same Poison
We’ve dressed drinking up with labels, corks, glasses, and ceremony. We’ve built whole stories around it.
But when we strip that away, here’s what’s left: a toxic substance our body is desperate to get rid of.
- Dizziness? That’s the brain reacting to poison.
- Dehydration? That’s chemistry being disrupted.
- Nausea? The body begging us to stop.
- Hangovers? Proof that even small amounts take a toll.
This isn’t a harmless treat. It’s managed poisoning.
The Quiet Cost
Just because it doesn’t drop us to the floor doesn’t mean it isn’t hurting us.
Even “moderate” drinking chips away at:
- Focus
- Energy
- Sleep
- Mood
- Long-term brain health
For those of us who push ourselves in business and life, the cost is even clearer. Alcohol dulls our edge. It drags on our resilience.
We might not see it right away. But delay isn’t the same as absence.
Seeing Through It
If alcohol weren’t diluted, if its effects showed up immediately, we’d recoil.
Not because we’re weak. Because we’re smart.
We wouldn’t “develop a taste for it.”
We wouldn’t call it relaxing.
We wouldn’t choose to blunt our own minds.
We’d call it what it is: a slow-acting, socially endorsed toxin.
The Choice in Front of Us
This isn’t about shame or fear. It’s about clarity.
When we take away the glass, the story, and the ritual, the substance itself is plain to see.
And then the question becomes simple:
If we weren’t taught to see it as normal, would we still choose to drink it?
— Brent