Not being a recreational drug user, the feeling of narcotics is entirely foreign to me. When I've been given vicodin in the past, it was for pain - and rendered completely inert in my body when it was no longer required; it doesn't do anything for me unless I need it. What this doesn't mean is it won't completely mess with me when I do.
Each night I sleep entire lifetimes fifteen minutes at a time, spending the rest of my time in bed riding the wave, crashing again and again against wakefulness. I've worked out complex emotional issues subconsciously and one at a time spent quality time with each of my co-workers in massively intricate environments. I drive, I'm aware of my wife and children, and I try to keep all my appointments, but I'm simply not going to be rushed. At work, many of these people who I've worked side-by-side for a decade don't even recognize this extremely mellow mute who's walking around work in an Eric-suit.
I smile and nod, and time has no real meaning. I'd just as soon be at my desk at work as well as home. Or standing outside. Direction is fuzzy. I simply exist.
The last time I was this high, for this long, was 15-years ago following my oral surgery in Korea. I threw the remainder of my prescriptions away after two weeks of wandering the halls of the dorm in a daze.
I'm on day 5.