I was in a much darker place in my life 9 years ago, when this story occurred.
I hope it helps anybody experiencing, or who might have experienced something similar, feel like they aren't alone.
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How To Find Yourself
As the sunlight crept in around the blinds, her phone started ringing. Probably her boyfriend. He went home a couple of hours ago. I'm sure he couldn't sleep either. We did the same drugs the night before. The ecstasy in particular was keeping me awake. And we had the brilliant idea of crushing and snorting more tabs at 5 am to try to keep the high going. My heart and thoughts were racing. My brain and body and soul ached.
The phone went silent. And started ringing again a few seconds later. She didn't react. Maybe moved a little bit. The ringing stopped. I couldn't tell if she was awake enough to notice and not care, or was seriously that passed out. The phone rang again. How could somebody sleep through that? Well, actually, I know the answer to that. Had I taken different pills last night, I'd be right there with her. But I don't think she took anything.
The phone rang again. He's probably getting paranoid by now, I thought. He knew I was here. Should I answer? I hadn't done anything with his girlfriend. She's my friend too. I don't know. I'm just laying here, trying to figure out where my mind is at. And where I am at. Okay, in bed. Next to this girl. Who I like, but I'm not going to make a move on. She's asleep! Why am I back to this train of thought?
The phone rings again, and again. And again. Maybe 30 calls later, she wakes slowly. She looks over at me for a bit. Then to the phone. Expressionless, she flips it open, spends a few seconds looking at the screen, clicks some buttons, and closes it. The Motorola Razr. You remember that phone, don't you? Did you want one? I did.
I sit up. Move my legs. My actions are slow, weak, and tepid. I bring my legs around to the side of the bed. Put my feet on the floor. I stand up and walk to the mirror.
What? Who is that? I can't recognize myself. My facial expression is shifting and fluid. No consistency at all. I can't tell what I'm feeling. I can't tell what the person in the mirror is feeling. It definitely isn't me.
"I don't recognize him."
After a slight pause, she calmly says, "It'll be okay."
I don't know whether or not I believed her. But at that point I had no choice. Who was I? How'd I get here? Why couldn't I do something seemingly simple like recognize myself in the mirror?
Her boyfriend came over. We were going somewhere. I don't know where. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. So I just came along. I think she guided me. I don't really remember. But neither of them minded that I came along.
Outside, the sun was brighter than I remember. Looking down the street, the ground wasn't being very cooperative and kept bending, warping and twisting up and down a few feet. Unnatural and somewhat random color hues filled sections of my vision. I'm fairly certain the concrete wasn't purple tinted. And I thought the sky was a bit less red than what I saw. I hadn't slept in two days so mild hallucinations can be expected. But this was exceptionally strange behavior for reality.
We got in the car and drove. To where, it didn't matter to me.
We parked. As I finished a cigarette in the car a girl walked by. She motioned like she was putting a cigarette out. That must have been a signal to me. I felt naked and exposed. I felt like everyone around me knew more about everything than I did. I felt so lost.
We went into our destination. A nail salon. Her boyfriend and I sat in the front. On the other side of the waiting area the tiles wouldn't stop shifting color hues and bending in strange patterns. The chair that sat atop the tile did similar things. I looked over at a couple of women. Were they just looking at me? I thought so. My pupils are dilated heavily. Who knows what I look like. I couldn't recognize me. So maybe I look like some sort of alien. I don't know.
Some amount of time goes by. I don't know how much. I don't remember. I didn't really care.
Back in the car. I want to cry but I can't. I don't know why. My brain hurts. My heart hurts. My soul aches. I can't think. I'm scared to think. I think everybody can somehow tell what I think. So I just sit.
At our next stop. I don't know what we're doing here, but I recognize the place. It's right by a park. I recognize this park. It has that rocket ship. I kind of want to go to the rocket ship. I asked if I had time to go to the rocket ship. I really wanted to go to the top. We had time. So I went.
I climbed up, slowly, weak. A kid, maybe five or six years old is energetically playing on the ship. I pass him on my way up. I kept climbing.
When I reach the top I sit. I stare out at the tops of the trees along the creek. They're big, tall, lush, and green. The wind blowing through them creates a comforting, gentle noise. It relaxes me slightly. Enough to cry.
And then I cry.
I cry in pain. I cry for the loss I feel within myself. Of what? I'm not sure. Maybe just myself. I hurt. I am tired. I am beaten down. I cry harder.
Then I pray. Not to a religious deity, but to the energy. The presence. The force. Whatever you want to call it. Whatever it is about reality that we can't explain that drives us to exist. Whatever drove us to drift and evolve from the specs we were when life first showed up on earth into the beings we are now. Whatever beautiful laws of the universe that we can't understand with our limited perceptions made the matter of the universe coalesce into the beings we are now. Beings who are self-aware.
And I felt pretty far away from self-aware.
I ask for help. I ask for the pain to go away. I ask to find myself again. To feel myself again. To know myself again. I ask to be healed. To feel alive again.
Silence.
And then, I hear a call. She's telling me it's time to go. I slowly climb back down the rocket ship.
I'm back in the car. In the backseat. I'm confused. I sit in silence, reflecting on my recent experience, and then speak.
"Will I find him on the rocket ship?"
For some reason I felt it necessary to reference myself in the third-person.
"No," she said gently.
"Will I find him in Tyler?"
I was enrolled in college at UT Tyler at the time.
"No."
I don't know where my next question came from. But it came from somewhere unexpected. Somewhere other than my conscious mind. Somewhere deep within me that still functioned despite the constant battering I was doing to myself during that time in my life.
So I asked it.
"By the actions I choose?"
I teared up as I said it. It was almost a rhetorical question.
Definitively, she replied.
"Yes."
I hope it helps anybody experiencing, or who might have experienced something similar, feel like they aren't alone.
-------------------------
How To Find Yourself
As the sunlight crept in around the blinds, her phone started ringing. Probably her boyfriend. He went home a couple of hours ago. I'm sure he couldn't sleep either. We did the same drugs the night before. The ecstasy in particular was keeping me awake. And we had the brilliant idea of crushing and snorting more tabs at 5 am to try to keep the high going. My heart and thoughts were racing. My brain and body and soul ached.
The phone went silent. And started ringing again a few seconds later. She didn't react. Maybe moved a little bit. The ringing stopped. I couldn't tell if she was awake enough to notice and not care, or was seriously that passed out. The phone rang again. How could somebody sleep through that? Well, actually, I know the answer to that. Had I taken different pills last night, I'd be right there with her. But I don't think she took anything.
The phone rang again. He's probably getting paranoid by now, I thought. He knew I was here. Should I answer? I hadn't done anything with his girlfriend. She's my friend too. I don't know. I'm just laying here, trying to figure out where my mind is at. And where I am at. Okay, in bed. Next to this girl. Who I like, but I'm not going to make a move on. She's asleep! Why am I back to this train of thought?
The phone rings again, and again. And again. Maybe 30 calls later, she wakes slowly. She looks over at me for a bit. Then to the phone. Expressionless, she flips it open, spends a few seconds looking at the screen, clicks some buttons, and closes it. The Motorola Razr. You remember that phone, don't you? Did you want one? I did.
I sit up. Move my legs. My actions are slow, weak, and tepid. I bring my legs around to the side of the bed. Put my feet on the floor. I stand up and walk to the mirror.
What? Who is that? I can't recognize myself. My facial expression is shifting and fluid. No consistency at all. I can't tell what I'm feeling. I can't tell what the person in the mirror is feeling. It definitely isn't me.
"I don't recognize him."
After a slight pause, she calmly says, "It'll be okay."
I don't know whether or not I believed her. But at that point I had no choice. Who was I? How'd I get here? Why couldn't I do something seemingly simple like recognize myself in the mirror?
Her boyfriend came over. We were going somewhere. I don't know where. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. So I just came along. I think she guided me. I don't really remember. But neither of them minded that I came along.
Outside, the sun was brighter than I remember. Looking down the street, the ground wasn't being very cooperative and kept bending, warping and twisting up and down a few feet. Unnatural and somewhat random color hues filled sections of my vision. I'm fairly certain the concrete wasn't purple tinted. And I thought the sky was a bit less red than what I saw. I hadn't slept in two days so mild hallucinations can be expected. But this was exceptionally strange behavior for reality.
We got in the car and drove. To where, it didn't matter to me.
We parked. As I finished a cigarette in the car a girl walked by. She motioned like she was putting a cigarette out. That must have been a signal to me. I felt naked and exposed. I felt like everyone around me knew more about everything than I did. I felt so lost.
We went into our destination. A nail salon. Her boyfriend and I sat in the front. On the other side of the waiting area the tiles wouldn't stop shifting color hues and bending in strange patterns. The chair that sat atop the tile did similar things. I looked over at a couple of women. Were they just looking at me? I thought so. My pupils are dilated heavily. Who knows what I look like. I couldn't recognize me. So maybe I look like some sort of alien. I don't know.
Some amount of time goes by. I don't know how much. I don't remember. I didn't really care.
Back in the car. I want to cry but I can't. I don't know why. My brain hurts. My heart hurts. My soul aches. I can't think. I'm scared to think. I think everybody can somehow tell what I think. So I just sit.
At our next stop. I don't know what we're doing here, but I recognize the place. It's right by a park. I recognize this park. It has that rocket ship. I kind of want to go to the rocket ship. I asked if I had time to go to the rocket ship. I really wanted to go to the top. We had time. So I went.
I climbed up, slowly, weak. A kid, maybe five or six years old is energetically playing on the ship. I pass him on my way up. I kept climbing.
When I reach the top I sit. I stare out at the tops of the trees along the creek. They're big, tall, lush, and green. The wind blowing through them creates a comforting, gentle noise. It relaxes me slightly. Enough to cry.
And then I cry.
I cry in pain. I cry for the loss I feel within myself. Of what? I'm not sure. Maybe just myself. I hurt. I am tired. I am beaten down. I cry harder.
Then I pray. Not to a religious deity, but to the energy. The presence. The force. Whatever you want to call it. Whatever it is about reality that we can't explain that drives us to exist. Whatever drove us to drift and evolve from the specs we were when life first showed up on earth into the beings we are now. Whatever beautiful laws of the universe that we can't understand with our limited perceptions made the matter of the universe coalesce into the beings we are now. Beings who are self-aware.
And I felt pretty far away from self-aware.
I ask for help. I ask for the pain to go away. I ask to find myself again. To feel myself again. To know myself again. I ask to be healed. To feel alive again.
Silence.
And then, I hear a call. She's telling me it's time to go. I slowly climb back down the rocket ship.
I'm back in the car. In the backseat. I'm confused. I sit in silence, reflecting on my recent experience, and then speak.
"Will I find him on the rocket ship?"
For some reason I felt it necessary to reference myself in the third-person.
"No," she said gently.
"Will I find him in Tyler?"
I was enrolled in college at UT Tyler at the time.
"No."
I don't know where my next question came from. But it came from somewhere unexpected. Somewhere other than my conscious mind. Somewhere deep within me that still functioned despite the constant battering I was doing to myself during that time in my life.
So I asked it.
"By the actions I choose?"
I teared up as I said it. It was almost a rhetorical question.
Definitively, she replied.
"Yes."
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