“See Through, Tasteless and Wet”

I am as agreeable as water
pouring into a cup
and willing to let someone else decide
if it's half full or empty,
but the problem is that that means I'm see through,
tasteless, and wet in the most obvious sense,
while yearning to be more like whisky,
burning throats who think they know
more than the spit in their mouths
and are afraid of being blackout drunk
because they might get mean,
get closer to their truer selves,
only for me to accept my clarity
clouds who I want to be, and even worse,
I'm unable to tell if the drain
loves me or wishes I never existed.