Hey, this is an essay I wrote for my creative non-fiction course this past semester at college. It's about my life, and how ecstasy changed me. I got great praise from a lot of people and just wanted everyone here to read it. It's already in the works to be published as a short story. Let me know what you think, Thanks. Disclaimer: *Any events described are potentially hypothetical and don't necessarily hold any validity.* Feel free to ask me questions or start up some discussion.
The Rediscovery of Emotion
I've never seen a bigger smile plastered on my face. Beneath the glowing glue and few beads of perspiration slowly rolling down my face is a man full of content and joy. That night seems like a distant memory, yet it was only a week ago. I remember how happy I was at the time. Posing for the photograph, I knew it would serve as a constant reminder of how great life can be. All of the social constraints and rules that normally held me down and kept me quiet had been thrown out the window. No longer was I a man afraid to express his feelings. Rejection was an impossibility. I was without fear; I didn't even fear fear itself. I had only one goal in life, the pursuit of happiness. Just like our forefathers had stated in the declaration of independence, I was living the American dream. It wasn't as if I was simply thinking, "I want to be happy." In fact I was simply happy because everyone around me was happy. That was enough for me, all of my wants and needs vanished. I should say my personal wants and needs because I wanted and needed everyone around me to experience my extreme elation. My world was filled with the importance of everyone around me. Every action I took was carefully constructed with this in mind. How in the world did such a shy and reserved guy like me stumble upon such comfort and peace?
It's a typical Thursday night for me at Saint Michael's College. The severe boredom is pounding my brain repeatedly. Every heartbeat signals a second of my life, wasted. I'm alternating stares between the television and the familiar cluttered walls of Dan's room. Every night I seem to gravitate to his room. It’s not as if his room is always slamming with a party; in fact, it is quite the contrary. A few “select” individuals, myself included, seem to be regulars at this unappealing locale. The reason for this is a mystery, but I tend to think it is due to the never-changing monotony and familiarity. Every night is the same story. People sit around smoking pot or drinking beer, while watching Adult Swim (an adult oriented cartoon program). These “sessions” are occasionally interjected with small talk and odd conversations, all of which quickly seem to resemble each other in a mess of “stoner babbling.” Dan’s room is the pinnacle of a disaster. The walls are blanketed with purposely off-tilt posters highlighting the joys of drugs. The floors are dusted heavy with crumbs and ash, leaving the strong smell of cigarettes present at all times. Books and beer bottles are scattered across the floor, with the occasional Diet Pepsi can.
The room is almost as disheveled as Dan himself. Dan is pacing the room, through the trash, scrolling through numbers on his phone. He has his habitual cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, continually puffing his life away. Dan almost seems to know his life will end too soon, as he is frantically searching for some sort of excitement on this campus. As expected, nothing of interest is happening tonight. Dan lets me know this through his drunken yelling and the subsequent hammer that he launches through the wall. I’m not even fazed, as this is commonplace for me. “How did I ever start hanging out with this violent, socially inept alcoholic?” I think to myself. As Dan barges out of the room in a drunken rage, I start contemplating, “What is wrong with me?” Before I get a chance to examine my sad self and my sorry life, I am interrupted by a visitor. I hear the doorknob’s metallic turn. I instantly feel a wave of fear and anxiety overtake my body, beginning at my heart and rushing to my head. I realize that I am all alone in the room, and a social encounter is imminent. “Do I look alright? What am I going to say? What if I have nothing to say, or worse I say the wrong thing?” Just when I can’t stand this anxiety any longer, the door swings open to reveal Kain. My body is greeted by the comfort of relaxation. Kain is one of a few people that I have become good friends with at SMC. One of the few that don’t force me into that terrible anxious state. Without even saying hello, Kain says, “Let’s go to Montreal.” My interest is instantly piqued. The night is still young, only 5:00 PM. My mind is instantly undertaking the necessary calculations, like time, money, vehicle, and all the other details. In a matter of seconds, a small smile begins to creep upon my face, and I nod my head. It is so unlike Kain to want to go to Montreal. All of my previous attempts to bring him to “the city of opportunity” failed. What could possibly have changed his stubborn mind? “I am so sick of this ridiculous election bullshit,” Kain whines, as he gazes at the television with a sneer on his face. I understand where Kain is coming from better than anyone. For the last year I have been barraged with enough propaganda and sensationalism to make me sick. All of this has come to a culmination today, election day. Everyone has preached to me all day about the importance of voting and how patriotic it is. No disrespect, but **** America. I have had all I can take of this country, and I need a break, some liberation. For the first seventeen years of my life, I followed all the rules to the letter, and where did it get me? I’ve been unhappy, socially damaged, and I have such disgust for the way our country is run. How do they know what is best for me? Who says their way is the right way? It is time to try things my way. I am going to break out of the shell society has cast upon me, into a world bursting with possibilities and potential.
This is MY life, and I’m going to Montreal. Without further hesitation, I spring to life. The energy of possibilities pulses through my body. My anticipation is already near unbearable; I am a man on a mission. Dan stumbles into the room in his quasi-drunk stupor. Without discussion, I demand that he accompany Kain and me to Montreal. As expected, Dan puts forth no resistance to the voyage, and he is quickly leading our trio to my car.
The city of Montreal has always held a special place in my heart. From the time I was a young boy, it has felt like a place of grandeur and adventure. My exploration of the city began at the young age of twelve. On a school field trip, I and the other students were divided into groups of six, each with a chaperone. I held the unfortunate distinction of being the son of my chaperone. Every time my father became involved in a school event resulted in my immense embarrassment. Not that he ever did or said anything directly embarrassing me, I was simply shamed by the way he acted. He always felt the need to act like a child, trying to be one of the boys. Of course all of my friends thought he was cool, wishing he was their dad. All I wanted was a “normal” father. A strict father who follows all the rules, not this weirdo who cracked up all my friends with his adolescent humor. Every child-like action would send a rush of blood through my face, more red than a tomato. How badly I wanted to dissapear, deny all association with this man-child. It’s not as though anyone would notice if I was gone. Honestly, what did I have to offer to my classmates, to the world?
My whole childhood I felt like a fifth wheel. I was the fat kid who most tolerated, but none embraced. Those who couldn’t tolerate my presence made sure their feelings were thoroughly expressed by means of ridicule, seemingly sick sadistic torture through my teary eyes. Every innocent attempt of mine to create a friendship was quickly thwarted by an ever-present L on my forehead. I had been deemed a loser. I would have been more accepted had that L stood for leper. I wasn’t simply avoided; instead any feeling or indiscretion I disclosed was promptly used as an attack against me. I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to. Over time I learned to keep my mouth shut; I adapted to my harsh environment. What they don’t know, they won’t be able to use against me. I knew I had to be silent and unnoticed, invisible would have been a welcome state.
Upon arrival in Montreal the groups separated, embarking on a journey through the city. We would visit the old part of the city, “Chinatown," the waterfront and everywhere in between. The buzzing city streets mesmerized my young mind. All of the activity, the noise, the people: it was enough to make my head spin. I had never seen so much going on, in such a small area. As we began our trek upon the hard, cracked sidewalks, I was filled with such insecurity. I kept close to my father and classmates in fear of becoming lost. My senses quickly became enthralled in all of the new experiences around me. All of those smells and sights sent my head into a spin. The always-changing storefront windows kept me interested for the longest time. I would pass a sex shop, next a doctor’s office, then a restaurant. My eyes wandered upon the people strolling the streets. Everyone was so different, and yet no one seemed to notice. There was so much diversity and unity at the same time. The city seemed to flow together to an unheard beat.
Everyone seemed to act together in unison, always aware of everyone around them, most smiling. I had always pictured a city as a sea of drones roaming the streets, unaware of anything but themselves. The pre-conceived world in my mind was crumbling down. Montreal was a haven for differences to be not only accepted but embraced. Variety is a necessity for the continuation of that magnificent paradise. I snapped myself out of my state of awe, realizing I had fallen a bit behind my group. I made no attempt to catch up. They had no idea what they were missing.
The bus ride home was bittersweet for me. I had never been exposed to such a beautiful community. Everyone’s individuality fed the city, creating its pulse and life. I had never felt so comfortable with being myself; a subtle tranquility had consumed my body, despite the bustling streets around me. All of the diversity reassured me of my emotions and feelings. I knew there was life beyond my small town and my haunting school, a better life. Yet I knew I needed to retreat from paradise to return to my hollow life. I had caught a glimpse of the beautiful garden growing beyond my walls, and I was comforted by the seed I planted within my mind.
Now as we drive across the Champlain Bridge into the city of Montreal, I gaze over the water. There is a tranquil beauty of the water forcing its way onward, not letting boat nor land impede its progress. Kain is navigating our voyage. He calmly plots our path through the winding, seemingly mislabeled roads of Canada. I am feeling very frantic, and my driving shows that. I am cutting in and out of traffic, speeding like a mad
man. Dan tells me to chill out, and I take his advice, making use of a nice fat joint he just finished rolling. I take a couple of strong tokes and allow my back to relax against my cloth seat. My new sense of peace allows me to calmly make my way into the bustling city. We are fortunate enough to immediately find an open parking space; leaving the car, we head straight for the bars.
I quickly order a large pitcher of Molson Export, anxious to intoxicate myself with some real Canadian lager. The beer is cold; the music is good, as trance music pounds out of the expensive sound system; and most importantly I am with good friends. As we talk about school, life and everything else, we proceed with our goal of becoming smashed. The night is a mellow one but full of great conversation, filling me with a mild sense of belonging and content. After what I believe to be my third pitcher, I realize that I am going to need to drive all three of us back to America. As always, I bite the bullet and cut myself off from the delicious alcohol. It seems that I am always forced into the role of the responsible one, but I suppose I don't mind. It's a role that I have played many times and have done a good job of, if I say so myself. I guess it provides me with a sense of purpose, playing the role of chaperone. I watch over my friends, keeping them out of harm's way. After a couple of hours without some suds my inebriated state begins to dwindle, and I feel the urge to leave. By this point Kain and Dan are rather trashed, and it seems like a good time to end our fun.
We burst out of the bar onto Saint Catherine Street. The street looks like a carnival. Crowds of people are flooding the street. The lights are flashing, neon and glowing, I can't help but to look around in awe. The people on the street are divided into spectators and "carnies." Some are there looking for a good time, while others are trying to sell some form of entertainment. As potential customers stroll by, shouts of
"coke" or "speed" can be heard. Those not interested continue their travel as though nothing was ever said. At the same time, people who need a "fix" or an "adventure" seem to pounce on the opportunity presented to them. A few words are exchanged, followed by money and the product. The dealer is quick to move along the street for a couple of blocks, fearing he may have just made a sale to an undercover. The customer scampers away just as quickly, though he is filled with the feeling of content and excitement. A small smirk can be seen upon his face, as he knows his night has just begun.
I have always been one of the uninterested passer-bys. Of course I have always been curious about the allure of the plethora of drugs floating on the streets, but I have never truly contemplated partaking in any of these experiences. The phrase, "Just say no," was engrained into my mind from early childhood. This brisk November night feels different though. As a street corner dealer yells, "E," it was though he softly whispers in my ear. I quickly turn to meet his uncompromising stare and look him over. He is black, wearing a big red winter coat, and looks surprisingly normal. I am not met by the image of an evil demon, peddling poison. I feel excitement rush through my body as I contemplate what E would be like. I know very little about this drug. My simple understanding is that it is the "love drug" that makes everything feel good. The dealer asks me, "How many?" "5," I reply. I hand the man eighty Canadian dollars, and he thrusts five small orange pills in my hand. We walk away just as all the others do, me with a smirk as I join up with Dan and Kain, and we pile into my car to return to our normal lives.
I wait the next two days, lusting for Friday to come. My anticipation makes those two days drag on like weeks, but finally the day is here. I think that my house is the perfect place for me to indulge in this experience, a familiar place with many fond memories. I surround myself with my closest friends. Dan and Kain are here, along with Heather, and Julie, whom I have had strong feelings for, for quite some time. I have sensed a connection between us for the year that we have known each other. The looks that we have given each other every time we meet sent jolts of despair through me because I knew I never would make a move. After all, she has an on-again, off-again boyfriend she couldn't stand but couldn't bear to leave. She began as a friend of my sister, and we slowly became friends with each other. Yet for all the great moments, there were the times when uncomfortable silence fell between us, as I would not know what to say. These times prevented me from ever making a step forward to a real relationship, something I've regretted every day.
We are all gathered in my living room, the lights are dim, and a gentle melody is provided courtesy of The Mars Volta. None of us has ever tried ecstasy before, so we all have some feelings of anxiety. I decide that I'll be the first to consume a pill. I place the small orange disk on my tongue; an instant sour taste strikes my tatebuds. I splash a gulp of water and down it goes. Everyone else follows my lead. We all anxiously wait for a feeling, passing the time talking and listening to music. Slowly, I feel a movement occurring behind my eyes. Almost as if my mind is rearranging itself into a more comfortable position. I slowly gaze around the room. There is a faint sparkling glow emanating from everything and everyone. A smile breaks upon my face, a smile that will remain there for nearly five hours. I notice the same smile on the faces of all my
friends. Suddenly the music piques my interest. I am hearing beats and notes that I have never heard before. Every slight detail is projected to me, as if it was all made for me.
Deep down in my heart, I feel the yearning to connect with everyone around me. I just start talking to anyone who wants to listen. It doesn't matter what I'm talking about, it just feels good to be expressing myself, and it seems as though everyone is contentely enthralled in my simple conversation. I am drowned in the warmth of belonging. I feel my entire body begin to relax. From my head to my toes and everywhere in between, I sense my body letting go of the fear. The chains on me feel no more. They seem to be broken finally; for the rest of eternity I will not live in shame. The fear is consumed by undirected love. I simply feel love for myself and everyone around me. I begin telling Kain and Dan how important their friendships are to me and what a difference they make in my life. There is a true reciprocity of my emotions, and I feel a strengthening of the bond between us. My thoughts are interrupted by Julie's leg gracefully brushing against mine. An unexplainable rush is sent through my entire body, one that stops my breath. I turn to look at her, and I can tell she feels the exact same feeling. Our solidarity of sense and emotion bring us closer to each other. I gaze longingly into her flooding brown eyes. There is a unique glow to them. In fact I notice a glow emanating from her entire body. I am convinced this is her inner beauty escaping, which I am now fully capable of worshipping. I am consumed by the necessity to tell Julie this, as well as all of my other feelings for her. I've never felt so good in my life, and I can sense a feeling of relief
sweep over her, as though she has been waiting forever for me to tell her this. I graciously run my fingers through her long, soft brown hair, as I slowly lean in closer to her angelic face. Her face is pristine and sparkling, so I run my hand delicately along her smooth skin. She is doing the same to my face; all the while our eyes are locked together. All of our surroundings have disappeared. It's just me and her, granted the luxury of temporary love. I have no desire but to spend eternity with her on this couch in wonderment of her beautiful being.
The hours passed by, though I didn't notice. Julie and I were entangled into one being of unity. My yearning arms are wrapped around her, holding her close, keeping her safe. The comfort of being together is all we want. We spend the time embracing and kissing. Kissing passionately and softly. Julie kisses my face ever so softly. It feels like a warm snowflake gliding upon my face. Our faces are melded into one. I feel a tear begin to roll from my eye. Instead of being embarrassed because "guys don't cry," it brings a bigger smile upon my face, Never in my entire life have I felt this beautiful. We both accept each other for who we are, deep down, grateful for every moment we are together. We slowly drift off to sleep in each other's grasp, never letting go.
I awake with contentment circulating through my body. I open my eyes, revealing Julie next to me. The sun is glimmering through the window. She is sleeping, peacefully. I can't help but smile. My eyes begin to search all around the room to make sure this is all real, that I'm not dreaming. I am reassured of reality by Julie's arms pulling me closer to her. I allow myself to melt into her. The inner peace and clarity of last night is still as strong as ever. I feel such a deep connection to Julie, as though we have known each other forever. All of the usual awkwardness that accompanies a new relationship is non-existent. Instead I feel absolute comfort in presenting myself, for who I truly am, to Julie. She opens her eyes and meets my gaze. Both our faces are covered by smiles. We begin to talk about last night and all that we felt and still feel. Julie spills her reciprocity for the deep caring I feel for her. We both know that our feelings are unique and special, something meaningful and rare. I know this is something I need to try and make work. I have such desire to be with Julie. I want to tell her all of my thoughts and emotions, and I want to know all of her plans and dreams. We talk about all of this and more, comforting one another in our unified emotions. After we have said all we have to say, we find contentment in the silence that surrounds us, just holding each other. This comforting heaven is given limit by the constraints of reality. Julie realizes she must return home to see her daughter. I help her collect her clothes and belongings, as she prepares to leave. Our goodbyes are quick, knowing we will be together soon, and she is out the door into reality. I know it will take a lot of effort to make us work, but I am fully prepared to give her everything I have because I know we having something special. Society makes it hard to follow your heart, but it just means that I will have to try harder.
I walk into the living room, where Dan and Kain are. Heather has already left. I feel a strong sense of acceptance as I enter the room. We all look at one another and begin to smile. We talk and laugh, recollecting wonderful moments of last night. I still feel that calmness in my soul, allowing me to easily talk to my friends and express my emotions. I rejoice in the fact that all of my discovery of last night has remained in tact. For the first time in my life I am assured and confident in who I am. I realize how deep into the morning it is and how hungry I am. I suggest that we go out to get something to eat, and this idea is met with enthusiasm. I open the door to go out to breakfast, ready to enter reality. I am ready to face the world and be a part of society. Though, I know I will be who I want, not who society wants me to be.
The Rediscovery of Emotion
I've never seen a bigger smile plastered on my face. Beneath the glowing glue and few beads of perspiration slowly rolling down my face is a man full of content and joy. That night seems like a distant memory, yet it was only a week ago. I remember how happy I was at the time. Posing for the photograph, I knew it would serve as a constant reminder of how great life can be. All of the social constraints and rules that normally held me down and kept me quiet had been thrown out the window. No longer was I a man afraid to express his feelings. Rejection was an impossibility. I was without fear; I didn't even fear fear itself. I had only one goal in life, the pursuit of happiness. Just like our forefathers had stated in the declaration of independence, I was living the American dream. It wasn't as if I was simply thinking, "I want to be happy." In fact I was simply happy because everyone around me was happy. That was enough for me, all of my wants and needs vanished. I should say my personal wants and needs because I wanted and needed everyone around me to experience my extreme elation. My world was filled with the importance of everyone around me. Every action I took was carefully constructed with this in mind. How in the world did such a shy and reserved guy like me stumble upon such comfort and peace?
It's a typical Thursday night for me at Saint Michael's College. The severe boredom is pounding my brain repeatedly. Every heartbeat signals a second of my life, wasted. I'm alternating stares between the television and the familiar cluttered walls of Dan's room. Every night I seem to gravitate to his room. It’s not as if his room is always slamming with a party; in fact, it is quite the contrary. A few “select” individuals, myself included, seem to be regulars at this unappealing locale. The reason for this is a mystery, but I tend to think it is due to the never-changing monotony and familiarity. Every night is the same story. People sit around smoking pot or drinking beer, while watching Adult Swim (an adult oriented cartoon program). These “sessions” are occasionally interjected with small talk and odd conversations, all of which quickly seem to resemble each other in a mess of “stoner babbling.” Dan’s room is the pinnacle of a disaster. The walls are blanketed with purposely off-tilt posters highlighting the joys of drugs. The floors are dusted heavy with crumbs and ash, leaving the strong smell of cigarettes present at all times. Books and beer bottles are scattered across the floor, with the occasional Diet Pepsi can.
The room is almost as disheveled as Dan himself. Dan is pacing the room, through the trash, scrolling through numbers on his phone. He has his habitual cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, continually puffing his life away. Dan almost seems to know his life will end too soon, as he is frantically searching for some sort of excitement on this campus. As expected, nothing of interest is happening tonight. Dan lets me know this through his drunken yelling and the subsequent hammer that he launches through the wall. I’m not even fazed, as this is commonplace for me. “How did I ever start hanging out with this violent, socially inept alcoholic?” I think to myself. As Dan barges out of the room in a drunken rage, I start contemplating, “What is wrong with me?” Before I get a chance to examine my sad self and my sorry life, I am interrupted by a visitor. I hear the doorknob’s metallic turn. I instantly feel a wave of fear and anxiety overtake my body, beginning at my heart and rushing to my head. I realize that I am all alone in the room, and a social encounter is imminent. “Do I look alright? What am I going to say? What if I have nothing to say, or worse I say the wrong thing?” Just when I can’t stand this anxiety any longer, the door swings open to reveal Kain. My body is greeted by the comfort of relaxation. Kain is one of a few people that I have become good friends with at SMC. One of the few that don’t force me into that terrible anxious state. Without even saying hello, Kain says, “Let’s go to Montreal.” My interest is instantly piqued. The night is still young, only 5:00 PM. My mind is instantly undertaking the necessary calculations, like time, money, vehicle, and all the other details. In a matter of seconds, a small smile begins to creep upon my face, and I nod my head. It is so unlike Kain to want to go to Montreal. All of my previous attempts to bring him to “the city of opportunity” failed. What could possibly have changed his stubborn mind? “I am so sick of this ridiculous election bullshit,” Kain whines, as he gazes at the television with a sneer on his face. I understand where Kain is coming from better than anyone. For the last year I have been barraged with enough propaganda and sensationalism to make me sick. All of this has come to a culmination today, election day. Everyone has preached to me all day about the importance of voting and how patriotic it is. No disrespect, but **** America. I have had all I can take of this country, and I need a break, some liberation. For the first seventeen years of my life, I followed all the rules to the letter, and where did it get me? I’ve been unhappy, socially damaged, and I have such disgust for the way our country is run. How do they know what is best for me? Who says their way is the right way? It is time to try things my way. I am going to break out of the shell society has cast upon me, into a world bursting with possibilities and potential.
This is MY life, and I’m going to Montreal. Without further hesitation, I spring to life. The energy of possibilities pulses through my body. My anticipation is already near unbearable; I am a man on a mission. Dan stumbles into the room in his quasi-drunk stupor. Without discussion, I demand that he accompany Kain and me to Montreal. As expected, Dan puts forth no resistance to the voyage, and he is quickly leading our trio to my car.
The city of Montreal has always held a special place in my heart. From the time I was a young boy, it has felt like a place of grandeur and adventure. My exploration of the city began at the young age of twelve. On a school field trip, I and the other students were divided into groups of six, each with a chaperone. I held the unfortunate distinction of being the son of my chaperone. Every time my father became involved in a school event resulted in my immense embarrassment. Not that he ever did or said anything directly embarrassing me, I was simply shamed by the way he acted. He always felt the need to act like a child, trying to be one of the boys. Of course all of my friends thought he was cool, wishing he was their dad. All I wanted was a “normal” father. A strict father who follows all the rules, not this weirdo who cracked up all my friends with his adolescent humor. Every child-like action would send a rush of blood through my face, more red than a tomato. How badly I wanted to dissapear, deny all association with this man-child. It’s not as though anyone would notice if I was gone. Honestly, what did I have to offer to my classmates, to the world?
My whole childhood I felt like a fifth wheel. I was the fat kid who most tolerated, but none embraced. Those who couldn’t tolerate my presence made sure their feelings were thoroughly expressed by means of ridicule, seemingly sick sadistic torture through my teary eyes. Every innocent attempt of mine to create a friendship was quickly thwarted by an ever-present L on my forehead. I had been deemed a loser. I would have been more accepted had that L stood for leper. I wasn’t simply avoided; instead any feeling or indiscretion I disclosed was promptly used as an attack against me. I had nowhere to go, no one to talk to. Over time I learned to keep my mouth shut; I adapted to my harsh environment. What they don’t know, they won’t be able to use against me. I knew I had to be silent and unnoticed, invisible would have been a welcome state.
Upon arrival in Montreal the groups separated, embarking on a journey through the city. We would visit the old part of the city, “Chinatown," the waterfront and everywhere in between. The buzzing city streets mesmerized my young mind. All of the activity, the noise, the people: it was enough to make my head spin. I had never seen so much going on, in such a small area. As we began our trek upon the hard, cracked sidewalks, I was filled with such insecurity. I kept close to my father and classmates in fear of becoming lost. My senses quickly became enthralled in all of the new experiences around me. All of those smells and sights sent my head into a spin. The always-changing storefront windows kept me interested for the longest time. I would pass a sex shop, next a doctor’s office, then a restaurant. My eyes wandered upon the people strolling the streets. Everyone was so different, and yet no one seemed to notice. There was so much diversity and unity at the same time. The city seemed to flow together to an unheard beat.
Everyone seemed to act together in unison, always aware of everyone around them, most smiling. I had always pictured a city as a sea of drones roaming the streets, unaware of anything but themselves. The pre-conceived world in my mind was crumbling down. Montreal was a haven for differences to be not only accepted but embraced. Variety is a necessity for the continuation of that magnificent paradise. I snapped myself out of my state of awe, realizing I had fallen a bit behind my group. I made no attempt to catch up. They had no idea what they were missing.
The bus ride home was bittersweet for me. I had never been exposed to such a beautiful community. Everyone’s individuality fed the city, creating its pulse and life. I had never felt so comfortable with being myself; a subtle tranquility had consumed my body, despite the bustling streets around me. All of the diversity reassured me of my emotions and feelings. I knew there was life beyond my small town and my haunting school, a better life. Yet I knew I needed to retreat from paradise to return to my hollow life. I had caught a glimpse of the beautiful garden growing beyond my walls, and I was comforted by the seed I planted within my mind.
Now as we drive across the Champlain Bridge into the city of Montreal, I gaze over the water. There is a tranquil beauty of the water forcing its way onward, not letting boat nor land impede its progress. Kain is navigating our voyage. He calmly plots our path through the winding, seemingly mislabeled roads of Canada. I am feeling very frantic, and my driving shows that. I am cutting in and out of traffic, speeding like a mad
man. Dan tells me to chill out, and I take his advice, making use of a nice fat joint he just finished rolling. I take a couple of strong tokes and allow my back to relax against my cloth seat. My new sense of peace allows me to calmly make my way into the bustling city. We are fortunate enough to immediately find an open parking space; leaving the car, we head straight for the bars.
I quickly order a large pitcher of Molson Export, anxious to intoxicate myself with some real Canadian lager. The beer is cold; the music is good, as trance music pounds out of the expensive sound system; and most importantly I am with good friends. As we talk about school, life and everything else, we proceed with our goal of becoming smashed. The night is a mellow one but full of great conversation, filling me with a mild sense of belonging and content. After what I believe to be my third pitcher, I realize that I am going to need to drive all three of us back to America. As always, I bite the bullet and cut myself off from the delicious alcohol. It seems that I am always forced into the role of the responsible one, but I suppose I don't mind. It's a role that I have played many times and have done a good job of, if I say so myself. I guess it provides me with a sense of purpose, playing the role of chaperone. I watch over my friends, keeping them out of harm's way. After a couple of hours without some suds my inebriated state begins to dwindle, and I feel the urge to leave. By this point Kain and Dan are rather trashed, and it seems like a good time to end our fun.
We burst out of the bar onto Saint Catherine Street. The street looks like a carnival. Crowds of people are flooding the street. The lights are flashing, neon and glowing, I can't help but to look around in awe. The people on the street are divided into spectators and "carnies." Some are there looking for a good time, while others are trying to sell some form of entertainment. As potential customers stroll by, shouts of
"coke" or "speed" can be heard. Those not interested continue their travel as though nothing was ever said. At the same time, people who need a "fix" or an "adventure" seem to pounce on the opportunity presented to them. A few words are exchanged, followed by money and the product. The dealer is quick to move along the street for a couple of blocks, fearing he may have just made a sale to an undercover. The customer scampers away just as quickly, though he is filled with the feeling of content and excitement. A small smirk can be seen upon his face, as he knows his night has just begun.
I have always been one of the uninterested passer-bys. Of course I have always been curious about the allure of the plethora of drugs floating on the streets, but I have never truly contemplated partaking in any of these experiences. The phrase, "Just say no," was engrained into my mind from early childhood. This brisk November night feels different though. As a street corner dealer yells, "E," it was though he softly whispers in my ear. I quickly turn to meet his uncompromising stare and look him over. He is black, wearing a big red winter coat, and looks surprisingly normal. I am not met by the image of an evil demon, peddling poison. I feel excitement rush through my body as I contemplate what E would be like. I know very little about this drug. My simple understanding is that it is the "love drug" that makes everything feel good. The dealer asks me, "How many?" "5," I reply. I hand the man eighty Canadian dollars, and he thrusts five small orange pills in my hand. We walk away just as all the others do, me with a smirk as I join up with Dan and Kain, and we pile into my car to return to our normal lives.
I wait the next two days, lusting for Friday to come. My anticipation makes those two days drag on like weeks, but finally the day is here. I think that my house is the perfect place for me to indulge in this experience, a familiar place with many fond memories. I surround myself with my closest friends. Dan and Kain are here, along with Heather, and Julie, whom I have had strong feelings for, for quite some time. I have sensed a connection between us for the year that we have known each other. The looks that we have given each other every time we meet sent jolts of despair through me because I knew I never would make a move. After all, she has an on-again, off-again boyfriend she couldn't stand but couldn't bear to leave. She began as a friend of my sister, and we slowly became friends with each other. Yet for all the great moments, there were the times when uncomfortable silence fell between us, as I would not know what to say. These times prevented me from ever making a step forward to a real relationship, something I've regretted every day.
We are all gathered in my living room, the lights are dim, and a gentle melody is provided courtesy of The Mars Volta. None of us has ever tried ecstasy before, so we all have some feelings of anxiety. I decide that I'll be the first to consume a pill. I place the small orange disk on my tongue; an instant sour taste strikes my tatebuds. I splash a gulp of water and down it goes. Everyone else follows my lead. We all anxiously wait for a feeling, passing the time talking and listening to music. Slowly, I feel a movement occurring behind my eyes. Almost as if my mind is rearranging itself into a more comfortable position. I slowly gaze around the room. There is a faint sparkling glow emanating from everything and everyone. A smile breaks upon my face, a smile that will remain there for nearly five hours. I notice the same smile on the faces of all my
friends. Suddenly the music piques my interest. I am hearing beats and notes that I have never heard before. Every slight detail is projected to me, as if it was all made for me.
Deep down in my heart, I feel the yearning to connect with everyone around me. I just start talking to anyone who wants to listen. It doesn't matter what I'm talking about, it just feels good to be expressing myself, and it seems as though everyone is contentely enthralled in my simple conversation. I am drowned in the warmth of belonging. I feel my entire body begin to relax. From my head to my toes and everywhere in between, I sense my body letting go of the fear. The chains on me feel no more. They seem to be broken finally; for the rest of eternity I will not live in shame. The fear is consumed by undirected love. I simply feel love for myself and everyone around me. I begin telling Kain and Dan how important their friendships are to me and what a difference they make in my life. There is a true reciprocity of my emotions, and I feel a strengthening of the bond between us. My thoughts are interrupted by Julie's leg gracefully brushing against mine. An unexplainable rush is sent through my entire body, one that stops my breath. I turn to look at her, and I can tell she feels the exact same feeling. Our solidarity of sense and emotion bring us closer to each other. I gaze longingly into her flooding brown eyes. There is a unique glow to them. In fact I notice a glow emanating from her entire body. I am convinced this is her inner beauty escaping, which I am now fully capable of worshipping. I am consumed by the necessity to tell Julie this, as well as all of my other feelings for her. I've never felt so good in my life, and I can sense a feeling of relief
sweep over her, as though she has been waiting forever for me to tell her this. I graciously run my fingers through her long, soft brown hair, as I slowly lean in closer to her angelic face. Her face is pristine and sparkling, so I run my hand delicately along her smooth skin. She is doing the same to my face; all the while our eyes are locked together. All of our surroundings have disappeared. It's just me and her, granted the luxury of temporary love. I have no desire but to spend eternity with her on this couch in wonderment of her beautiful being.
The hours passed by, though I didn't notice. Julie and I were entangled into one being of unity. My yearning arms are wrapped around her, holding her close, keeping her safe. The comfort of being together is all we want. We spend the time embracing and kissing. Kissing passionately and softly. Julie kisses my face ever so softly. It feels like a warm snowflake gliding upon my face. Our faces are melded into one. I feel a tear begin to roll from my eye. Instead of being embarrassed because "guys don't cry," it brings a bigger smile upon my face, Never in my entire life have I felt this beautiful. We both accept each other for who we are, deep down, grateful for every moment we are together. We slowly drift off to sleep in each other's grasp, never letting go.
I awake with contentment circulating through my body. I open my eyes, revealing Julie next to me. The sun is glimmering through the window. She is sleeping, peacefully. I can't help but smile. My eyes begin to search all around the room to make sure this is all real, that I'm not dreaming. I am reassured of reality by Julie's arms pulling me closer to her. I allow myself to melt into her. The inner peace and clarity of last night is still as strong as ever. I feel such a deep connection to Julie, as though we have known each other forever. All of the usual awkwardness that accompanies a new relationship is non-existent. Instead I feel absolute comfort in presenting myself, for who I truly am, to Julie. She opens her eyes and meets my gaze. Both our faces are covered by smiles. We begin to talk about last night and all that we felt and still feel. Julie spills her reciprocity for the deep caring I feel for her. We both know that our feelings are unique and special, something meaningful and rare. I know this is something I need to try and make work. I have such desire to be with Julie. I want to tell her all of my thoughts and emotions, and I want to know all of her plans and dreams. We talk about all of this and more, comforting one another in our unified emotions. After we have said all we have to say, we find contentment in the silence that surrounds us, just holding each other. This comforting heaven is given limit by the constraints of reality. Julie realizes she must return home to see her daughter. I help her collect her clothes and belongings, as she prepares to leave. Our goodbyes are quick, knowing we will be together soon, and she is out the door into reality. I know it will take a lot of effort to make us work, but I am fully prepared to give her everything I have because I know we having something special. Society makes it hard to follow your heart, but it just means that I will have to try harder.
I walk into the living room, where Dan and Kain are. Heather has already left. I feel a strong sense of acceptance as I enter the room. We all look at one another and begin to smile. We talk and laugh, recollecting wonderful moments of last night. I still feel that calmness in my soul, allowing me to easily talk to my friends and express my emotions. I rejoice in the fact that all of my discovery of last night has remained in tact. For the first time in my life I am assured and confident in who I am. I realize how deep into the morning it is and how hungry I am. I suggest that we go out to get something to eat, and this idea is met with enthusiasm. I open the door to go out to breakfast, ready to enter reality. I am ready to face the world and be a part of society. Though, I know I will be who I want, not who society wants me to be.
