full version
Adrenaline
So I left. Right then and there. I viscously stabbed the table with the fork that I held in my hand. I stood up the quickest I had ever stood before, yanking my place-mat off the table. It took all the might in the world to walk out that door, to walk out on my most beloved possession anywhere. Once I was outside, I could see everything. It was as if I had gained a power, as if I had walked through a sacred gate that enhanced my life. I could see the pollen in the air, I could even see the disgusting forms of bacteria forming on the garbage cans. I left.
I had no car, the only one WE had was hers and I couldn’t do that to her. I was the descent human being in this case. She tore me apart. She was as nasty as a tiger who hadn’t eaten in three weeks. If that is possible. Her mom was a nice person, she always liked me. But I left. I couldn’t take it any longer. She destroyed me.
I walked. I had no other choice, besides hitchhiking of course. I figured id walk as far as I could before I would hitch a ride. I figured I owed myself that much. So I walked. I walked and walked and walked, and it seemed as if my strides were in proportion to that of an ant’s. I got no where. It had been two whole weeks and I had gotten maybe 25 miles. Most people can run that far in 4 to 5 hours. My brother did that once. He ran something like 26 miles in what people call a marathon. I don’t have any idea what that’s all about. Why would anyone want to run 26 miles. They must be retarded. Although I have never seen a mentally retarded person run a marathon before, or even heard of one. Maybe im wrong, but what does it matter, I don’t really care
anyway
After about the third week, I started to get a little tired. I hadn’t eaten anything in 2 days and I was beginning to lose my strength. At one point as I was walking along the road, I looked down and all the pebbles that made up the cement seemed to turn into little bubbles, and they kept popping when I would step on them. They prevented me from getting anywhere, and I realized I could walk no further. I collapsed. I hit the ground with the impact of a 747 into a building. The cement crumbled under what seemed to be a lifeless soul. You could say that I guess. I had no reason to live. I wasnt living at that point. I had no drive, no will to do anything but lie and keep munching on the mouthful of cement I had received.
Being unconscious and in the state that I was in, I had the most magnificent dream. But was it a dream? It was if as I was walking along Highway One, along the absolutely astonishing coast of California. Once again I could see everything, I could see a man and a woman cuddling on the beach below. I could see the pebble that was holding three tons of rocks from a rockslide. Vision was everything. That was all I had, vision. Staring down the coastline was the most beautiful thing I have ever done, but did I do it? Was it all a dream, or had this experience actually occurred? I don’t know, but I don’t really care, because I experienced it none the less. Whether it had been a dream or if I were actually transported to a place in my dreams, I had an experience I will never forget. You know those dreams that you wake up and feel like you had the most amazing dream, but you cant remember it for the life of you? Well, it had the same effect on me as for being amazing, but I will always remember it as if it were real.
Waking up was the worst feeling I had ever had in my entire life. I wanted to stay in that state of grace forever. But that’s how life goes doesn’t it? Life sucks and then we die. The worst part about it was that when I did open my eyes, I had an I.V. stuck in my arm (with about 15
holes that showed where the nurses tried to stab me, but failed miserably because all nurses suck at that) I was hooked up to a respirator, and I could not speak a word. Both of my arms, broken, both of my legs, broken. When the nurse saw I had my eyes open, she exploded into a full sprint after the doc. When he graced me with his presence he informed me that while I was passed out on the cement, I was smoked by a car. He told me that the car sped off, and I was left there to die. I guess I was in pretty bad shape. When he tried to list off my injuries, it took him half an hour, as he had to read about 5 pages worth. I was in a terrible state. I had lost my ability to speak, at least for a while, and I was now breathing out of one lung. Talk about your shitty day.
I was in the state of comatosis for about 2 months. I spent another 8 in the hospital trying to recover from the book of injuries I had. It was the toughest year of my life. There were days in that hospital that I would just lie on my bed and scream. I would just lay on my back and scream with all the might my one lung had. If there were a way to describe the pain I was feeling, it would be parallel to sitting there and having your skin sliced, and peeled off your body. You would then proceed to tear every muscle and then rip that off as well, and if you were still living, all of your bones would shatter and that is about half of what I went through. The pain got so bad at times that I would contemplate killing myself, yet I didnt have the balls to kill myself. Or the ability to either.
That wasnt even the tough part. Most people when they go in the hospital, receive flowers and visitors to help them get through the pain they are receiving. I got none. Nothing. No cards, no flowers, and no god damn visitors. Although who would send me flowers or come visit me? I had no one in this planet. No one to hold, no one to comfort me even when I was healthy. Those eight months, all that kept me going was the longing for that feeling once again. I wanted to feel wanted again.
I finally got to go home. The hospital so kindly freed me after a long ten months of hell. I hate hospitals, I loathe them entirely. When I got to go home though, it was even more hell because I didnt have a home. When I had been hit by the car, I was legally homeless, and let me tell you, the feeling that I needed to walk along the road again scared the hell out of me. I didnt really understand what was going to happen with my life. It was like I was born again, blind, looking into an unknown universe of pain and chaos. I didnt want it. I started to cry as most babies do when first born. I was scared and didnt know what to do. The difference between me and a newborn was that a newborn at least had a mother to guide it along the way. My parents had abandoned me and I was left to survive on my own. What was I to do. I could walk again yes, but that would be my worst nightmare. I did not want to go through another ten months of hell. I would hitchhike.
Approaching the road again was like walking up to the man that just raped you and saying, “Hey, Mr. Rapist, will you please rape me again?” Needless to say, I approached with the greatest of caution. I was holding my thumb up as far away from the road as possible, and I was not walking at all. I figured that no one would pick me up anyway, because not many people are interested in picking up hitchhikers who are odd looking. Believe me, I was odd looking. I was a 5 foot 4 tall male with brand new skin, and thin as a Bosnian child who hadnt eaten more than a piece of bread a day for his entire life. I looked terrible. There was no getting around that fact, but I wasnt budging until a car finally did stop to drive me somewhere.
Somewhere, now thats a place that I love. I did not know where I wanted to go, nor what I wanted to do, and somewhere sounded like the best place to figure that out. It started to rain, and I had been standing still for hours. Finally, a van pulled up next to me and shouted, “GET YOUR ASS IN THIS CAR RIGHT NOW!!!” I hesitated a moment, but the yelling only got worse, and I decided what the hell, I might as well. What could be the worst that could happen? I walked up to the window, and who was driving, but none other than the woman of my dreams. As soon as I saw those eyes, I started to cry. The tears flowing out of my eyes were not tears of happiness. No, not even close. Before long, my eyes were pouring out water like the bottom of the hoover dam. All of a sudden in a fit or rage, I began to beat her car with all the strength I had in me. I shattered the windows, I dented in the side panels. Her van was no longer. She didnt get the chance to pull away. It was as if I had become superhuman at the site of her. I literally destroyed her car. I ripped off the hood and began tearing the engine apart. Ripping random things out until finally, the engine was completely deceased. You should have seen the car. It looked like one of those cars you see in a drunk driving commercial. Completely and utterly destroyed. It looked as if it had hit a brick wall going 85 miles per hour. On all four sides. She sat in her front seat speechless. She seemed amazed at the fact that I, a human who just spent almost a year hospitalized, completely pulverized her van.
After about a minute of speechless activity on both of our parts, I finally said, “I’m sorry,” in the most insincere voice known to mankind. I hated that woman, with all the breath in my lungs, with all the blood in my veins, with all the dignity I had in my soul. She is lucky she had a van that I could use as a whipping boy. The four walls of that van saved her life. I cannot explain the reason why I was able to destroy something so strong as a car, but I can explain the feeling that drove it. Out of all this, I have learned to despise feelings and emotions. I am not going to let a feeling or an emotion put me in the hospital for another ten months.
She never uttered a word again.
So I left. Right then and there. I viscously stabbed the table with the fork that I held in my hand. I stood up the quickest I had ever stood before, yanking my place-mat off the table. It took all the might in the world to walk out that door, to walk out on my most beloved possession anywhere. Once I was outside, I could see everything. It was as if I had gained a power, as if I had walked through a sacred gate that enhanced my life. I could see the pollen in the air, I could even see the disgusting forms of bacteria forming on the garbage cans. I left.
I had no car, the only one WE had was hers and I couldn’t do that to her. I was the descent human being in this case. She tore me apart. She was as nasty as a tiger who hadn’t eaten in three weeks. If that is possible. Her mom was a nice person, she always liked me. But I left. I couldn’t take it any longer. She destroyed me.
I walked. I had no other choice, besides hitchhiking of course. I figured id walk as far as I could before I would hitch a ride. I figured I owed myself that much. So I walked. I walked and walked and walked, and it seemed as if my strides were in proportion to that of an ant’s. I got no where. It had been two whole weeks and I had gotten maybe 25 miles. Most people can run that far in 4 to 5 hours. My brother did that once. He ran something like 26 miles in what people call a marathon. I don’t have any idea what that’s all about. Why would anyone want to run 26 miles. They must be retarded. Although I have never seen a mentally retarded person run a marathon before, or even heard of one. Maybe im wrong, but what does it matter, I don’t really care
anyway
After about the third week, I started to get a little tired. I hadn’t eaten anything in 2 days and I was beginning to lose my strength. At one point as I was walking along the road, I looked down and all the pebbles that made up the cement seemed to turn into little bubbles, and they kept popping when I would step on them. They prevented me from getting anywhere, and I realized I could walk no further. I collapsed. I hit the ground with the impact of a 747 into a building. The cement crumbled under what seemed to be a lifeless soul. You could say that I guess. I had no reason to live. I wasnt living at that point. I had no drive, no will to do anything but lie and keep munching on the mouthful of cement I had received.
Being unconscious and in the state that I was in, I had the most magnificent dream. But was it a dream? It was if as I was walking along Highway One, along the absolutely astonishing coast of California. Once again I could see everything, I could see a man and a woman cuddling on the beach below. I could see the pebble that was holding three tons of rocks from a rockslide. Vision was everything. That was all I had, vision. Staring down the coastline was the most beautiful thing I have ever done, but did I do it? Was it all a dream, or had this experience actually occurred? I don’t know, but I don’t really care, because I experienced it none the less. Whether it had been a dream or if I were actually transported to a place in my dreams, I had an experience I will never forget. You know those dreams that you wake up and feel like you had the most amazing dream, but you cant remember it for the life of you? Well, it had the same effect on me as for being amazing, but I will always remember it as if it were real.
Waking up was the worst feeling I had ever had in my entire life. I wanted to stay in that state of grace forever. But that’s how life goes doesn’t it? Life sucks and then we die. The worst part about it was that when I did open my eyes, I had an I.V. stuck in my arm (with about 15
holes that showed where the nurses tried to stab me, but failed miserably because all nurses suck at that) I was hooked up to a respirator, and I could not speak a word. Both of my arms, broken, both of my legs, broken. When the nurse saw I had my eyes open, she exploded into a full sprint after the doc. When he graced me with his presence he informed me that while I was passed out on the cement, I was smoked by a car. He told me that the car sped off, and I was left there to die. I guess I was in pretty bad shape. When he tried to list off my injuries, it took him half an hour, as he had to read about 5 pages worth. I was in a terrible state. I had lost my ability to speak, at least for a while, and I was now breathing out of one lung. Talk about your shitty day.
I was in the state of comatosis for about 2 months. I spent another 8 in the hospital trying to recover from the book of injuries I had. It was the toughest year of my life. There were days in that hospital that I would just lie on my bed and scream. I would just lay on my back and scream with all the might my one lung had. If there were a way to describe the pain I was feeling, it would be parallel to sitting there and having your skin sliced, and peeled off your body. You would then proceed to tear every muscle and then rip that off as well, and if you were still living, all of your bones would shatter and that is about half of what I went through. The pain got so bad at times that I would contemplate killing myself, yet I didnt have the balls to kill myself. Or the ability to either.
That wasnt even the tough part. Most people when they go in the hospital, receive flowers and visitors to help them get through the pain they are receiving. I got none. Nothing. No cards, no flowers, and no god damn visitors. Although who would send me flowers or come visit me? I had no one in this planet. No one to hold, no one to comfort me even when I was healthy. Those eight months, all that kept me going was the longing for that feeling once again. I wanted to feel wanted again.
I finally got to go home. The hospital so kindly freed me after a long ten months of hell. I hate hospitals, I loathe them entirely. When I got to go home though, it was even more hell because I didnt have a home. When I had been hit by the car, I was legally homeless, and let me tell you, the feeling that I needed to walk along the road again scared the hell out of me. I didnt really understand what was going to happen with my life. It was like I was born again, blind, looking into an unknown universe of pain and chaos. I didnt want it. I started to cry as most babies do when first born. I was scared and didnt know what to do. The difference between me and a newborn was that a newborn at least had a mother to guide it along the way. My parents had abandoned me and I was left to survive on my own. What was I to do. I could walk again yes, but that would be my worst nightmare. I did not want to go through another ten months of hell. I would hitchhike.
Approaching the road again was like walking up to the man that just raped you and saying, “Hey, Mr. Rapist, will you please rape me again?” Needless to say, I approached with the greatest of caution. I was holding my thumb up as far away from the road as possible, and I was not walking at all. I figured that no one would pick me up anyway, because not many people are interested in picking up hitchhikers who are odd looking. Believe me, I was odd looking. I was a 5 foot 4 tall male with brand new skin, and thin as a Bosnian child who hadnt eaten more than a piece of bread a day for his entire life. I looked terrible. There was no getting around that fact, but I wasnt budging until a car finally did stop to drive me somewhere.
Somewhere, now thats a place that I love. I did not know where I wanted to go, nor what I wanted to do, and somewhere sounded like the best place to figure that out. It started to rain, and I had been standing still for hours. Finally, a van pulled up next to me and shouted, “GET YOUR ASS IN THIS CAR RIGHT NOW!!!” I hesitated a moment, but the yelling only got worse, and I decided what the hell, I might as well. What could be the worst that could happen? I walked up to the window, and who was driving, but none other than the woman of my dreams. As soon as I saw those eyes, I started to cry. The tears flowing out of my eyes were not tears of happiness. No, not even close. Before long, my eyes were pouring out water like the bottom of the hoover dam. All of a sudden in a fit or rage, I began to beat her car with all the strength I had in me. I shattered the windows, I dented in the side panels. Her van was no longer. She didnt get the chance to pull away. It was as if I had become superhuman at the site of her. I literally destroyed her car. I ripped off the hood and began tearing the engine apart. Ripping random things out until finally, the engine was completely deceased. You should have seen the car. It looked like one of those cars you see in a drunk driving commercial. Completely and utterly destroyed. It looked as if it had hit a brick wall going 85 miles per hour. On all four sides. She sat in her front seat speechless. She seemed amazed at the fact that I, a human who just spent almost a year hospitalized, completely pulverized her van.
After about a minute of speechless activity on both of our parts, I finally said, “I’m sorry,” in the most insincere voice known to mankind. I hated that woman, with all the breath in my lungs, with all the blood in my veins, with all the dignity I had in my soul. She is lucky she had a van that I could use as a whipping boy. The four walls of that van saved her life. I cannot explain the reason why I was able to destroy something so strong as a car, but I can explain the feeling that drove it. Out of all this, I have learned to despise feelings and emotions. I am not going to let a feeling or an emotion put me in the hospital for another ten months.
She never uttered a word again.