That’d be alcohol, of course.
I decided last night that I was in a sufficiently stable and pleasant state of mind that most likely very little mental damage would be done if I chose to experiment some with my own self-forbidden fruit.
I won’t recount what I drank or how much, because it’s irrelevant and stupid. I did it like I do everything else I choose to be curious about–unadulterated, straight to the point. I saw (and see) no point in pussyfooting around with juices and sodas and making things taste better. I wanted to imprint the real tastes and sensations in my mind, and I wanted it to be done quickly.
So I drank until I lost a certain amount of control, then rode the waves.
The sensation of intoxication itself was… interesting. Not pleasant. I had no more fun inebriated than I would have had sober (not a surprise), and the loss of control over my vision, physical balance, verbal ramblings, and physical reactions to stimuli was more disturbing than fun. This may have something to do with my struggle with these things when sober that made things a little more nerve-wracking and a lot more sharply wild when that control was loosened.
And I was only on the light side of drunk.
Drinking is a game I’ll leave for others more secure in their ability to maintain decorum when intoxicated. Or those who care less than I do about maintaining boundaries and control. I had my night with very little damage to my person (although the jury is out on my reputation and some of my friendships). I’m done with it.