Things are perhaps kind of surreal? As if you are glimpsing a moment from the future, the past . . . whatever. Maybe it isn't the people or surroundings; maybe it's just the circumstances or the events taking place that somehow draw you in.I had an experience like that this morning. It was really strange.
In order to fully disclose, I must be completely honest. I am perpetually under the influence and have been for almost the last month. I'm taking Chantix in an effort kick tobacco. I did it once before without, after my daughter was born, but started up again about 4 years later. I wish I wouldn't have started again, but that's not he way things happened.
The instructions tell you to give it a couple weeks to a month for the medication to kick in before you actually quit. So I did. I was going to stop last week. I almost made it a whole day - but gave in once I got home.
But yesterday!!! SUCCESS!! As of the time I'm writing this it has been nearly 36 hours.
Ok, so what does that have to do with "one of those moments?" So, I'm totally amped - If you ever tried to kick something, whether it be tobacco or something else, you'd understand. It's as if you've suddenly opened a door that makes your body want to react to everything. Like you've almost been reborn. Like you were blind and now can see, deaf and now you can hear, tastless and now can taste, you get the drift. In other words it's like I'm wide open - receiving on all channels. On the one hand it's kind of cool. I feel totally energized, but it's also a curse because there's always the off chance I could totally go batshit-postal too.
I pull into a parking spot. There's a car parked next to me, but it's of little interest to me until I get out. Grabbing my backpack from the backseat, I turn and close the door and notice this guy sitting inside the car next to mine. He's an older guy, insignificant in any other way except for how he's just sitting in his car. There's a bit of a war being waged between the gray hairs and maybe brown hairs. Looks like the grays are going to win the battle on his head just like they did with his facial hair. Meanwhile he just sits there and stares . . . . somewhere? At the radio? At the wall in front of his car ( parking garage )? Is he just caught up in the radio? I can't hear it and I'm right next to his car. But he's just sitting there. A wrinkled, defeated looking man who, quite possibly just like me 15 - 20 years from now, often wonders what the hell it's all for sometimes. Why do I put myself through getting up every morning so that I can build on someone else's dream. For him perhaps he's convinced himself it's too late or there's just too much riding on it. Like I said. It was weird.
I don't know. He never turned to look at me as if to ask, "What the fuck you staring at, weirdo?" He just sat there. I wondered if it was a future yet to come for your's truly if I don't get something done.
