Is This It: The Account Of One Raw Night

Is this it?

I took it and this is it?

This is what I get?

I expected life changing transformations akin to the same emotions which pour out of other substances.

I wanted to feel the world at my fingertips, with every move I make having a profound effect on everyone and everything around me.

I wanted houses to shake on my own command.

This constant feeling of wanting to lasso the moon and put it on the concrete in front of me was so endearing. Just imagining the thought of being ten feet away from the moon and slowly walking up to, touching it, feeling how it’s different than anything just about every human being has ever known – that thought seemed too magnificent for a mere mortal whose species once rubbed together rock to create fire.

That feeling of trees suspended above the rafters on what looked like a movie set – woah! There was nobody alive except me. I could have walked into any one of those different sized, different colored houses and acted as if it was my own. I probably wouldn’t even have cared if anybody saw me because it was my movie. This was my script and I was the director putting every fucking stop on this production.

I wanted to know if it was true that my life was changing and I didn’t even know.

Where was the different person? Then I thought to myself, What even makes a person different from who they were before? Do other people even notice those subtle changes? Do YOU even notice? These rampant, wild changes could be going and that stranger enveloped in the Himalayas would know as much about it as me.

Was it true? Were those two trees planted next to each other, towering twenty feet above me, representing my longing to find someone I had never met and be with her because it was the right thing to do?

Those patterns, red and pink square shaped patterns — were they a sign of my longing to exchange roles with my father? Did I want to be the flower child depicted in 1960’s documentaries? Probably.

Why did it feel like a life-changing experience occurred every time I opened a different door in my house? Was I being choked to fucking death by real-life metaphors?

Is it still working?

Why does the dopamine make me appreciate things so much more? Why do drugs make me feel so much more at ease? Did Terence McKenna feel the same way as I felt? Are the people like me who love experimenting with everything that can change a life in the most positive manner– do we all think alike and just hold it in because we don’t want to ruin that one instant when all the synergy could destroy the boarded walls that encapsulated us in that moment in time?

That account I read from a stranger in New Mexico on some random Google-generated message board about how thoughts tingle up your vein and make creativity seem like the greatest gift one person could ever receive – was that bullshit stolen from a Lewis Carroll story or was it possible?

Why am I the way I am and why is everyone I know the way they are?

Why is everyone I only know only through listening to a music album, or watching them on a television show, or seeing them in a movie, or spotting them in a fast food commercial – why do some of those people settle in my subconscious? Why do I not give a shit about the other half of those people?

Is everything going to work out in my life?

When I thought about where I am in life and where I will soon be, this strange calm came down over me and I told myself everything was going to be alright. The funny thing is that I don’t even know, but every risk pays off somehow. Just like every relationship and every friendship mean more to anyone than they could ever explain.

Was this supposed to be fifteen minutes I would never forget?

Why didn’t I realize I was only wearing one slipper?

Why do I keep asking “why?” Shouldn’t I be asking “why not”?

This is it. This is the rest of my life happening right now.

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