It is the most glorious, terrifying, satisfying, troubling, gratifying, pleasant and awful states of being. It originates from without – a caffeine buzz, an adrenaline rush, an amphetamine high – and eventually settles within. Deep within. It hollows out a space you never knew you had room for and sits. Sometimes, if left unchecked, it grows into a sort of benign soul cancer, but that’s not quite the feeling I’m describing here.
Instead, life continues as it always has, but you sort of fade out. It’s like a giant eraser has started to smudge your outline. The edges collapse into themselves.
Everything flows around you. You just tip your head back and relax, and allow the feeling – you are buoyant, not weighted down – to lift you up. You float.
Nothing… matters. Not really, does it? The sound’s been turned down to half. You could try to hear what’s going on, but it’s okay. You’re good. It’s all good. Everything is good.
Except, not really. Everything is terrible. Everything is a disaster of a train wreck of a massacre of an abortion. But eh, that’s ok. It’s how it is. This is how all of this is and it’s okay.
It’s a feeling to be relished. Luxuriate in it. Wrap it around yourself like some goddamn $200 blanket from some overpriced catalog that keeps arriving on your doorstep even though I’ve never even heard of this store, what the fuck is West Elm?
– – –
Try not to misunderstand. I’m not writing this while listening to recordings of Sylvia Plath and sucking down Johnnie Walker. I began work yesterday overly caffeinated and a series of unfortunate events ramped up my adrenaline until I reached the crest described above. I rode that wave of nihilistic glory well into the morning. And you know what? I hope everyone feels this way from time to time. Constantly? No. God, no. But an evening of this is refreshing, almost. Invigorating. As surreal and trippy as I’m describing it, it can ground a person in reality.
the sloppy copy 