The novelist John Cheever once wrote this:

Year after year I read in [my journals] that I am drinking too much . . . I waste more days, I suffer deep pangs of guilt, I wake up at three in the morning with the feelings of a temperance worker. Drink, its implements, environments, and effects all seem disgusting. And yet each noon I reach for the whiskey bottle.
Beautifully written by a man who did not die young. And in honor of his addiction to booze, I will have a shot of whiskey at noon.