It’s like being high. It’s like being high on drugs. Diet pills… or some over-the-counter legal speed of some kind. Maybe even similar to the feeling one gets when smoking meth. It’s that moment when the acid finally kicks in. It feels like we’re flying. Full of energy, hope, inspiration, love, motivation, optimism. Can’t stop smiling. Our cheeks are actually aching from smiling so hard for so long. Breath comes quickly and I shiver and shudder because the air feels cold flowing into my lungs. If you’ve ever taken Ecstasy, it’s similar to the feeling you get right when your dose first begins to kick in, after the nausea, just when you start to roll…. Heart races. I can see my heart beating thru my shirt. Is that real? Am I imagining that? Hands are trembling, my cigarette is shaky. Feels so good to smoke… tastes good too. I can taste smells. I can smell tastes. I can hear the universe humming all around me. Sounds are amplified, everything sounds crystal clear. There’s a high pitched noise at the edge of my reality…. sounds like the sirens are going off around me, but I seem to be in a bubble. The sound bounces off my bubble and the noise, for once, doesn’t bother me.
I’m hot. I’m cold. I’m sweating. I’m freezing. Can’t stop shaking, shivering, vibrating. Our body is vibrating. It feels and sounds like we are a car whose engine is being revved. I can hear the sounds, you understand? I can actually hear the sounds of a nonexistent automobile. Thoughts of time travel invade our mind, just like it has in the past. Maybe it’s true. Maybe that’s the only explanation. Kellie must be existing on some alternate plane of reality right at this moment. It’s as though no one can see me or hear me unless we allow them to, unless we will it into being. Is this what dementia feels like? So confused. Straining our brain to remember what brought this current condition on but we’re drawing a blank. From what people and left-behind clues tell us, this all began Thursday afternoon and it’s now late Monday night. Can’t remember if we’ve mentioned to our husband that we’re in this altered state, this mixed state, this state of confusion and mania and madness. Wonder if he’s noticed? We try to hide it. But Mom saw our smile and got suspicious; she asked questions. The Good Daughter laughed and tried to act casual and pretended that we were just “in a good mood”…which is something that just almost never happens. And so it was weird, weird in the same way as it was weird when my mother asked me at the store if husband and I needed any rubbers. Her word. Kellie was hit in the face by that one. Painfully embarrassing yet hilarious and a recognized golden moment in our lifetime. Mom. She’s really loosening up in her old age. Hopefully we K’s have something to do with that.
Inhale a shaky breath. My bare arms literally tremble and goose bumps appear on our pale skin. Our flawed skin. Our skin tells so many stories that no one has ever bothered to read. I don’t even know if Kellie herself has really looked at the scars. Some of us are attracted to the scars, we see them as a beautiful sign of survival. Other K’s despise the scars, as any imperfection, any flaw, any freckle, any blemish. Hideous. Kellie’s flesh is flawed. Self-inflicted wounds, sores, scratches, bites. Holes in our legs. Holes we’ve dug with tweezers and needles and scissors and nail clippers. A large angry-looking wound that is trying to get infected. *shudders in disgust*
Another shaky breath. There’s a metallic taste in my mouth…and I feel like my teeth are wearing a sweater. So thirsty. I think for a moment about going to get some water and then someone inside reminds me that Kellie doesn’t like water. Champagne? Coffee? What exactly is the proper beverage for a bout of mania? Water. That word again. We’re thinking we need something hot to drink so that it might warm us up, loosen the grip of this chill upon our body. Cocoa? The concept seems foreign to us. How do we make tea? How do we drink tea? DO we drink tea?? It’s so very cold in this room.
I’m pausing now to check my pulse. Seriously. Just have to reassure myself that we are not having a heart attack. Heat seems to be beating irregularly, but that could be paranoia telling me that. We K’s are so very, very paranoid. About anything. About everything. About all the things.
We’re not sleeping. We’re not eating. We can’t sit still. We can’t focus, we can’t concentrate, we can’t calm down. We feel like a toy which has been wound up tight and released to march across the land in aimless fashion. Destination unknown. But wherever we’re going, we’re flying there for sure. On a magic carpet which exists on some level of our mind, in a place where most people dream at night… Except we are awake. The dream is alive and all around us. We are currently under a spell it would seem. The spell of mania. Ah, she’s a double-edged sword. So euphoric…. then CRASH!!! The bottom falls out from under you. But for the moment, we are flying high, soaring above ourselves on a different plane of reality. Have we already said that? Our memory is such shit you know.