The romance between a bottle of tannins and a finely rolled spliff is entirely over for me. However, there is a new romance in town. Balloons and helium, which conveniently come in a kit for $24.99; home-delivered within three days. Perfect! Helium is not a classified drug, right? The high is a max of ten seconds, and, aside from a couple of dead brain cells, there is no hang-over! Brilliant! A dream come true for the addict in search of relief. It is undoubtedly a damn good thing that I’ve learned how to pause before embarking on one of my great ideas. Miraculously I was able to tame my desires and did not click the order button, but boy was I tempted. I thought of my body floating in space for a mere couple of seconds, and the sound of harmony crashing down on me - heaven! It is a miracle I was able to resist. Drugs gave me the ability to expand my body. The container that holds my emotions expanded (or so I thought) to make room for more feeling. Falling in love with my ex-wife coincides with the beginning of the end for me. When I met my ex-wife, I had never kissed anyone with such intense fiery. The passion she awoke in me was so great that I need to master it with a bottle or three. When my emotions become overwhelming, my jerk reaction is to reach for a substance that will allow me to stay in them, but control their movement through my body and veins. My ears are desperately yearning for the sound of a needle ripping through my skin. Tattoo parlors can not open soon enough! Over the past several weeks, I have been on a roller-coaster, the fucking Kingda Ka of emotional roller-coasters. I am grossly envious of people who can manage to feel satisfied after one cocktail. I am simply blown away by their ability to reach satisfaction in one puff, one drink, one drag, one shot, one… one… one… fucking one! I want to bathe in a sea of gin and tonic. Lose myself in a poppy field; emerge back into a new world order without having to witness its transformation. Fuck! FUCK!!
I’ll take twenty La Croix sodas, a gallon of coffee, fifteen bags of tea, three-pound of chocolate, five hours of Peleton riding, and one ounce of sanity, please.