Manic depression

Ever had the feeling of rising in the air like a helium filled balloon and reaching that point in sky where you can just reach out and touch the clouds? When it gets so cold that even if you jump in a fire, it wouldn't warm your extremities. When in the very next instant you are sitting at the wheels of a formula 1 car, racing among the traffic and squishing any life form that comes in your way. The sweat pours out your body as if you are racing against Death, but you know that any time Death would grip you by the neck and throw you into Hell, where you belong.

The lights were dim, Jimi Hendrix was playing in the background and my stomach was filled with butterflies that today was the day. The first joint was passed around without any effect, but the second one hit me like a hammer on my face. It started with a swirling feeling around my legs which slowly encompassed my entire body. Having no prior weed experience, I wasn't sure it was working. But then, nirvana..............

When it took an entire hold on me, a part of me wanted out. A part of me wanted to turn back time and hope that I never had tried the stuff. But it was a very small part. The rest of me didn't want the 'high' to stop. One moment I was flying through the air driven by the energy of Jimi Hendrix's music which now had total control over me. The next, I was free falling into the seat of a Ferrari race car. I could see my friends laughing uncontrollably at something only they found funny. I wished I could laugh too. The smoke in the room was going around in circles, enticing me to try more, just one more drag and one after it. I wanted to tell my friends that I was thirsty, that my throat was parched, begging for water to cool it down. But moving my tongue to form the words required too much effort.

And suddenly everything was on fast forward mode. I had to adjust my body to the new speed with which the world was moving. One of us had already passed out. Lucky bastard, I thought. The other was swinging his head to the tunes of "All Along the Watchtower". I think Jimi Hendrix was psychic. He knew which notes to hit to reach the inner most parts of your brain, the ones activated only by taking a joint.

I had to stand up. God, something had gotten stuck in my throat. I think it was ash from the joint we were smoking. I could picture it lodged there, dehydrating my throat and blocking the air from reaching my lungs. I had to stand up. I had to drink some water. I had to stand up. "Hey man, I am going to stand up", I told my friend. Yeah, sounded in my head like Hitler declaring that the Jews would be exterminated. So, I finally stood up. Nothing exciting. But the first step I took, the room spinned. The clouds were back. It was like walking in neck deep water. But the world was in fast mode. I had to walk fast too to walk with the usual speed.

The next task was to reach my room without bumping in to anyone. A look here, a look there and I was off. Reached my place in record time. Water, I need some god damned water to push the ash particle down my throat. Would it work? Would I be free of this fucked up thing lodged in my windpipe? Nah. After drinking some thousand gallons of water, I gave up. Brushing my teeth...yeah, that might work, or puking. Let me try brushing first, I thought. So, finally I puked. I puked out all the food I had had the entire day. Food that was supposed to get digested and give me energy was now coming out my mouth. Fuck you, Jimi!!! Fuck you all along the watchtower. Yup, I was pretty sure I was gonna die. The autopsy would reveal the source of my death, putting my family to shame. I would rot in Hell for eternity with Satan and his minions sodomising me round the clock. Fuck you Jimi!!!

God, I prayed, if ever I were to wake up alive in the morning, I promise you I would never take any intoxicants again. Just free me from the pain engulfing me. My eyes close. I love you, Jimi.....