One Tuesday, James finished the final chapter. He poured himself one last glass, as the book instructed. He didn't gulp it down with the usual frantic need. He tasted it—really tasted it. It was bitter, chemical, and numbing. He realized he had been spending thousands of dollars to poison his own senses.
He poured the rest down the sink. He didn't feel like he was losing a friend; he felt like he’d just been told he didn't have to wear heavy, wet coats in the middle of summer anymore. Allen Carr's Easyway to Control Alcohol
Then, he picked up a copy of The Easyway to Control Alcohol . One Tuesday, James finished the final chapter
Months later, James was at a wedding. In the past, he would have been eyeing the waiter, calculating how many bottles were left on the table. Now, he watched the "happy" drinkers slowly lose their ability to hold a conversation, their faces flushing as they chased a "high" that was really just the temporary easing of a self-inflicted itch. He tasted it—really tasted it
The book walked him through the analogy. He saw himself as a fly, lured by the sweet nectar of the plant, sliding further down the wax-coated walls. The fly thinks it's enjoying a meal, but the plant is the one eating. James realized he wasn't "giving up" a precious crutch; he was stepping out of a trap.