Drugs. Drugs are great.
I wake up, I feel tired. All I want to do is sleep some more. Another five minutes, another half hour. My entire physical constitution just screams ‘rest’. Don’t do anything. Do not explore the world. Do not become a better person. Do not quash the gnawing feelings of inadequacy that can only be assuaged with the sweat of your brow. Just fucking stay in bed man, honestly.
Then I take a shower. Little bit better, but I’m still on autopilot. Then I take my cocktail, and suddenly, everything brightens.
I keep thinking that the way the world is now, the civilisation we constructed for habitation, it’s just unnatural. Millions of years or however long we took to evolve and be born as a separate species, we spent in the wild. Every day simply revolved around finding food, water, and sex. Walking through the savannah, finding an animal to kill or fruit to harvest. Coming back and fucking the person who, through social and physical domination, you secured as your mate.
Fast forward to now and we live in a world of laws, of rules, of norms. We are domesticated animals; the difference between then and now is the difference between a wolf and a Chihuahua. Food, water and shelter is a given. There is nothing to hunt or to build. So it would make sense that in order to feel some kind of euthymia, some kind of contentment, we would have to take substances to force our brains to feel that way.
That’s where drugs come in. In my case: mirtazapine so I can sleep and don’t feel like killing myself. Duloxetine to keep my mood stable and also to stop me from killing myself. Methylphenidate to make me feel an artificial sense of enthusiasm for never-ending amounts of desk-bound academic reading and writing and understanding. Caffeine for more energy and enthusiasm. Nicotine because I sit on my ass all day and the peace I get from exercise is missing.
Of course, this doesn’t cover everything. Still need sex, still need companionship. Fulfilment, self-actualisation, whateverthefuck is at the top of the needs pyramid. The drugs are the crutch that keeps me standing so that I can pursue these goals. Even in an environment so far removed from our ancestral home, humans still need what they were built to need: sex and resources.
I had a dream last night where I got light-speed pissed that a friend of mine was getting pussy and I wasn’t. My subconscious yelling at me dude fucking get laid how long has it been holy shit. At 8AM on a Sunday (early-rising for me) it got me out of bed into the shower. Then I got back in my room to get dressed and suddenly whoa I’m so tired. Duloxetine, methylphenidate, caffeine, nicotine, suddenly I’m out the door.
Now I’m sitting on campus and I’m too wired to work. I try reading the abstracts I’m supposed to work from. But my brain is bouncing off the walls. I go outside for a smoke and come back, still too hyped. Now I write this to, I dunno, blow off steam or some shit. On the one hand I feel proud that I managed to actually get to campus and have work open on my laptop. On the other hand I feel pissed because I took so long to get here and I have to be home by 6PM to make dinner. In-between I have to go to gym again for the first time in months so that I can look good naked so that girls will fuck me.
For that I have creatine and pre-workout cocktails of stimulants and vasodilators. Better living through chemistry.