Kendal Gast
ENGL 355
Substances
I have already failed. It is
because I am scared. Scared of what anyone who reads this will
think. Scared of exposing myself (and what goes on within my mind) to
people outside of it. The goals that I
have in mind will eventually happen. At least I hope so, because all
I can say with confidence is, “I’ll figure it out”.
But
that’s something I often struggle with. I have these really awesome
moments of inspiration and confidence not only in myself but also in what can be
done, what I have the ability to do, the ideas that I have, and the motivation
I know I possess. And then abruptly an hour or two later, everything is
back to normal and I’ve forgotten nearly all of the revelations and mental
epiphanies that washed over me.
I
would be lying if I said that doesn’t happen when substances run through my
body. Of course it is more intense then, too. It is difficult
to describe, the feelings, experience, images… they’re obviously more relatable
if you, the reader, have experienced something similar. With substances
it’s as if a lens is removed in front of my eyes, or the lens, already there,
is polished to an extreme degree, revealing my surroundings and reality for
what they really are: reality. I think. Whatever I see is
sharp, detailed, nuanced, and horribly constructed. My fingers are loose,
flippant. Rubbing them together sends
dull sparks up my hand and into my arm, letting me know my nerve endings and
dendrites are firing away at the correct human speed, the speed that lets me
know I am connected to the air engulfed in me, and I in it. If I am tired, I nod in and out of
wakefulness. My subconscious flickers on
and off, and I see my classmates navigating the rapids of the Colorado River,
while in the next moment Bible verses swing around me and berate me for falling
asleep with my friends too near.
Depending on what’s in my bloodstream, I often get lewd and want a woman
next to me so I can feel her warmth a centimeter away from my own skin, my own
lips. It is a savory taste, first
grossly salty and next metallic and finally ending on noodles, with a hint of
brown sugar.
Then what
becomes most evident, especially in public places, is how everyone tries to
cover him or herself up or put on this little show. For who? Their
friends? Me?
The
show is for all of us. The performer does not want the rest of us to know
that they’re staging, trying to hide the fact that they’re uncomfortable with the
way they are, look, or feel. It’s funny to watch. Often I just stare
and get lost in all the information coming at me all at once, trying to sort
out what’s important or wanting to simply let my mind wander from the next
individual or odd thing my attention latches onto. But then after awhile,
I feel bad and want to run away. I want
to leave the public cacophony and hole up in my room with a book or Casey
Neistat video. Those will make me feel better, I tell
myself.
But I’m not so sure anymore. Perhaps I never was
truly sure. Either way, it seems like there’s something missing in either
situation. Some sort of lie I refuse to tell myself in public situations
or something actually meaningful to accomplish when I escape. The missing
link, however, could be the outdoors. Typically in those wanting-to-escape
situations, I’m much more happy on the journey back to my room. It must
be the outdoors. I want it to be the outdoors, or nature, or something
other than the bureaucracy of college. But when I’m in class and
especially right now, just plain old in the stage of school and completely
engrossed in the assignments I need to accomplish before the next class period
or due date, everything gets really mixed up and hard to pick up where I left
off.
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