At its core, alcohol is ethanol. The same toxic, flammable chemical found in industrial solvents, antiseptics, and fuel.
If someone handed us a bottle labeled mildly diluted poison, we wouldn’t hesitate — we’d throw it away. But pour it into a crystal glass, pair it with a curated experience, and suddenly it becomes socially acceptable. Sophisticated, even.
This is the illusion we’ve normalized.
What Alcohol Really Is
Ethanol is toxic to every cell in the human body. That’s not opinion — that’s chemistry. Our liver works overtime to break it down because it recognizes it as a threat. That’s its job: process the poison, protect the system.
And yet, we ingest it willingly. Why? Because it’s diluted — not enough to kill us on the spot, but enough to suppress our awareness of its impact… for now.
The Role of Dilution
The only reason we tolerate alcohol is that it’s been watered down just enough to delay the most immediate and obvious effects of poisoning.
If alcohol hit harder, faster, and more visibly — the way it does when someone drinks too much too quickly — no one would touch it.
But because the effects are softened, stretched over hours, or masked by ritual, we confuse that delay with safety. We tell ourselves it’s fine. Normal. Controlled.
It’s not.
Fancy Glass, Same Poison
We’ve dressed up drinking with branding. With stories. With taste profiles, labels, corks, and ceremony.
But if we strip away the glassware and the marketing, what we’re left with is this: a toxic substance our body is desperate to expel.
- Dizziness? That’s the brain reacting to toxicity.
- Dehydration? A direct effect of alcohol’s chemical interference.
- Nausea? The body asking us to stop.
- Hangovers? A clear sign that even low doses take a toll.
This is not harmless indulgence. It’s managed poisoning.
The Quiet Cost
Just because it doesn’t drop us to the floor doesn’t mean it isn’t doing damage.
Over time, even “moderate” drinking impairs brain function, mood regulation, energy, sleep quality, and long-term cognitive performance. It dulls our edge. It erodes our resilience.
We don’t see the cost right away — but high-performers especially know: delay doesn’t equal absence.
A Clearer Lens
If alcohol weren’t diluted — if it were just a little more aggressive in its effects — most of us would recoil instantly.
Not because we’re soft, but because we’re smart.
We wouldn’t “develop a taste for it.”
We wouldn’t use it to unwind.
We wouldn’t choose to impair ourselves.
We’d call it what it is: a slow-acting, socially endorsed toxin.
The Choice
None of this is about shame or fear.
It’s about clarity.
Once we stop romanticizing the delivery system, we can see the substance for what it really is — and ask ourselves a simple question:
If we weren’t trained to see it as normal… would we still choose to drink it?
— Brent