I’m back, I’m back…
I remember this feeling. I’m 17 years old again, and ready to go fuck shit up. I don’t know how to describe it other than full blast mania. I used to get in this state as a teenager. It was like… Here I am, with all the weapons I’ll ever need to bring the world to its knees: my brain and my mouth and my ego. Please get in my way.
I remember this feeling. I used to love this feeling.
Highwater marks. I have to keep remembering that. I look back on the previous 4 and a half months and it’s just a bunch of highwater marks on various shores. X GO GO GO! And then it recedes. Y GO GO GO! And then it recedes. This too shall pass.
Right now I have all my faculties, all my powers, and I’m in full blast mania, and there’s nothing to point it at. Weed kept this shit at bay. Alcohol was unpredictable. It could calm or magnify, but there was always weed too. Speed locked me in, but narrowed the scope and directed the mania to the task at hand. Right now, sober, I have no idea what to with this except to ride it out. I have no desire to hit a meeting tonight, and I doubt I could sit through it. But what the hell else am I going to do? Physical exercise perhaps will help.
My sponsor has his hands full.