Three months of steady drinking and his brain started to take the edge off the liquor. That was when he knew he was in trouble.
Pretty soon he was spending his evenings in bars, telling anyone who would listen that he was choosing to stay sober, that he could get drunk any time he wanted. The others looked at him with pity, their eyes bleary with drink.
The night he got back to his apartment at five in the morning, stone cold sober, and found no one waiting for him, he knew he couldn't go on. They found his body the next day. He had injected a syringe-full of cold, clear air into his veins.