Exercise 2 – Adderall

Second in a night. This wasn’t based off a specific prompt but I wanted to write something focusing on feeling – not just tactile, but in general. Contrast this to focusing on feels. Anyway, for context, I took adderall for the first time a few days ago. Not very impressive, really, but it still had a huge effect on me.

“You feel like a God.”

Not my words, but someone else’s. Maybe it was a year ago, maybe months but they said it and I saw it and damned if it isn’t true.

Not quite Zeus but maybe Ares. Thor instead of Odin. Powerful, sure, but not supreme.

“Fucking fantastic.” Those were my words. Sean just kinda nodded. I think he regretted giving me the pills, but I didn’t care.

Whatever he felt, I was proud of myself. As I stepped off the stair machine, I wanted to see if anyone had noticed the shiny “500” in the “Calories Burned” box.

“A hundred fifty more than usual,” I bragged to Sean . He just nodded again. For once, I didn’t even care about being acknowledged or admired. Damn their eyes. I was in control. Hell, it’d be the privilege of the other apes in that gym for me to crave their favor. Some sweaty validation that they could call their own.

We climbed the stairs quickly. Sean had given up on the stair machine early on, but I wanted him to notice how good I still felt. Two at a time, I vaulted my way up the steps. Danced impatiently at the top, to show that I was wasting valuable time waiting.

When we arrived at the machines, I went for the leg press first. I could always show him up at that one – lift 205 to his 90 – but today would be even better. After making sure that he was watching, I moved the pin to 230 pounds. It was nearly a tenth more than what I usually managed, but a god doesn’t pussy out.

I kept my face still to look like I wasn’t trying that hard. Once my legs were straight, I got Sean’s attention and chuckled a little.

“Man, two-thirty. That’s like thirty more than usual.” I stated the number just to make sure he knew.

There wasn’t even a burn as I curled my legs back inward and stood up. A god doesn’t feel pain.

The leg curl and then the bicep curl – those were the other two machines I used. Oh, the chest press as well, so there were three. On each one, I exceeded my previous limit by at least 20 pounds. Sometimes more.

I could’ve gotten used to that feeling. But I never wanted to. I wanted to always feel the same awe.

Some sense coursed through my super-charged mind and I stood up.

“Don’t wanna hurt myself, you know.” The briefings on workouts that I’d once glossed over said something about not forcing yourself beyond your natural limits. Probably. And for once, Sean agreed.

The walk back to his apartment was eternal. I couldn’t wait; I wanted to get home. I wanted to write and draw and talk and do everything. But I had to wait! It seemed so cruel.

Not only would we have to get back to his apartment and I’d gather my things, but then I’d have to walk home, too. Twenty-five minutes, at least, by average standards.

I made it in twelve.

There was no time to waste. There could never be time wasted again. Everything was crystal-clear, in those hours. As I spread out my homework, a detached part of myself marveled at how inefficient the regular me was. That me would have despaired at the sheer amount of papers I needed to fill, and just given up.  I could afford another missed assignment.

But a God doesn’t give up.

My hands cramped but I didn’t care. I was hungry, but I didn’t care. There was no time to care. I got up just once, to make a pot of coffee. The scald against my throat as I chugged it down was the only way I realized I’d been cold.

Hours passed. It was late evening, then it was midnight, and suddenly it was early morning.

It was still dark outside when I stopped scribbling. The pencil, fresh from the pack, was nearly empty of lead. Its eraser was worn down to a pummeled, rounded ball. In front of me lay a completed children’s book, written in basic Japanese and accompanied by increasingly simple pictures.

It was four in the morning but I couldn’t sleep. Rather, I wouldn’t. Time spent sleeping may as well have been time spent dead.

The internet was off, product of the bangs and bumps of my landlord upstairs. That suited me just fine. For once, I was content not being online.

I slammed down another cup of coffee and put on my shoes.

The books were due back that day. The library wouldn’t be open for another five hours; not until nine. Nothing would be, so I had the streets to myself.

Do you know how beautiful the world is? I didn’t.

Walking home from Sean’s, I’d been focused on my phone, and on my heartbeat, and on each step that I took. I felt the ground beneath my feet rise up to meet me, and then fall away again.

Now though, was the time to experience existence.

Maybe it was a placebo and maybe I was just excited, but I tasted the air. I heard the way  the wind rustled leaves and wondered how I’d missed it for 19 years.

Lights were astounding. The way they cut through the night from every direction, crisply and directly, made it seem like the whole world was lit up just for me.

I probably could’ve cried from how beautiful it was, if I wasn’t too busy being overwhelmed.

For the past hundred days, I have walked those streets at least twice. There is no building I have not looked at. There is no car that has not rumbled in the distance, but I swear to you that I never saw nor heard before that morning.

I couldn’t be a god because God was everywhere. God was in the trees and in the air. He was slouching beneath the lampposts and he was casting shadow-dogs behind shadow-fences that barked their shadow-praise.

Kyrie eleison.

The gospel of psychosis. The Good Word of close friends and prescription receipts.

God may be in the syringe and God may be in the spoon but I don’t care.

God may be in the pipe and God may be in the foil but I don’t care.

I have searched the bottom of the bottle for God and I have found him missing. I have searched the churches for God and I have found him missing.

I have searched my heart for God and I have found him missing, but I swear to you right now, God is in my veins.