It is a bright and sunny Sunday afternoon. A peaceful tranquility hums off of the side walk. The grass waves with a steady breeze, flowing up and into my window. My lunch is warm and my drink is cold. Simple thoughts no longer carry any weight. It is as if the world has lost its luster. Perhaps I need to take a break.
I continue down a path of happiness and fear. My face and body may not resemble my practices, however my eyes do. As I stare into the mirror I see an empty shell of belonged to my soul.
There are yin and yang. There are GHB and methamphetamine. The two counteract each other like water does a fire. I sit here alternating between two worlds.
In the world of GHB, I feel slow, goofy and unafraid of the consequences of my actions. It is in this world that I desire the fast paced, aggressive aspects of methamphetamine. Therefore, I dose the speed.
The room begins to sharpen. My mind no longer feels at ease. I begin to rapidly theorize, execute and communicate ideas in which I would have never spoken aloud; racing thoughts plague this mindset. Now it feels as if death, both physical and spiritual are very real things. Soon enough my thoughts dive into those of panic. Looking like an idiot, I take my blood pressure, temperature and heart rate every ten minutes as if I expect an undiagnosed health condition to manifest itself and take my life during my state of high stress.
As I end this manic behavior with GHB, I feel my heart slowly come to a regular pace. I remember my mother talking about listening to my heart beat for the first time while I was in her womb. Thump Thump
The heart beat is a reassuring sound to still be alive after a panic. To think in my teenage years I felt depressed, suicidal. After a dozen attacks, the saddened mind no longer wishes for eternal sleep, rather, quite the opposite.
I find myself looking back in the mirror. I found the cure for depression.
I continue down a path of happiness and fear. My face and body may not resemble my practices, however my eyes do. As I stare into the mirror I see an empty shell of belonged to my soul.
There are yin and yang. There are GHB and methamphetamine. The two counteract each other like water does a fire. I sit here alternating between two worlds.
In the world of GHB, I feel slow, goofy and unafraid of the consequences of my actions. It is in this world that I desire the fast paced, aggressive aspects of methamphetamine. Therefore, I dose the speed.
The room begins to sharpen. My mind no longer feels at ease. I begin to rapidly theorize, execute and communicate ideas in which I would have never spoken aloud; racing thoughts plague this mindset. Now it feels as if death, both physical and spiritual are very real things. Soon enough my thoughts dive into those of panic. Looking like an idiot, I take my blood pressure, temperature and heart rate every ten minutes as if I expect an undiagnosed health condition to manifest itself and take my life during my state of high stress.
As I end this manic behavior with GHB, I feel my heart slowly come to a regular pace. I remember my mother talking about listening to my heart beat for the first time while I was in her womb. Thump Thump
The heart beat is a reassuring sound to still be alive after a panic. To think in my teenage years I felt depressed, suicidal. After a dozen attacks, the saddened mind no longer wishes for eternal sleep, rather, quite the opposite.
I find myself looking back in the mirror. I found the cure for depression.