Well, I don’t really remember.
Nothing spectacular I’d assume.
I don’t trust, nor do I really like this pharmacopeia.
Not true. I just haven’t learned to manage it, I suppose. I like the comfort of it’s name. Of having it. I don’t particularly need it. But I have it. Doesn’t matter, I don’t know how to use it to my optimal benefit.
I don’t have to manage it, at all, actually. I can just… stop.
I was somewhere… in the dentist’s chair inhaling nitrous a few days ago. It wasn’t the same. I wrote, “Don’t be so obsessed with getting high” on my hand as I my eyes peered left… then back skyward… then shot left toward the tank. It’s N2O, of course, but it’s O2, too. Two balls in two distinct cylinders float on a puff of air. I’d say a ratio of 3/4 to 1/4. Still…
I felt my body. I remember, in the last instance not… feeling my extremities. Something was wrong… different. I didn’t like it. That’s all.
I remember last time. Last time was different. Last time was in Rosedale. Last time, I took the tongue ring out before anyone would see it was there. Because last time I cared about things of this degree. Last time I took the A train into Queens and walked to the bus stop and got lost, because that’s what I do. Last time I probably weighed around… well, numbers don’t really… anyway. I probably already couldn’t feel my extremities anyway. So, last time, in a blind study… a study in general… wouldn’t be so blind. so..
Desperation causes all sorts of things to go awry. And it occures to me that I may have been trying to obtain a high to prove that I am still the same.
I am not.
I understand what I thought at the time that I thought it. And I understand what I thought then, now.
But I didn’t understand the aforementioned.
I will continue to go out of my way to prove that I am the same. and time and time again fail.