The Other Me
‘Falling’ iv. When I woke the next morning, the first thing that ran through my head was a self-check. Anxiety …? Panic …? It was gone. After so long being with me, it felt bizarre to have the inside of my head back to myself, to my own thoughts. I bounced out of bed, sure this was the start of something new – or at least the resumption of the way things had been – although throughout the morning, I noticed hangover effects from the Euhypnos: my mind still half-asleep, thinking a bit jumbled; movement lethargic, sometimes uncoordinated; there was also the smallest cramp in my chest. But it seemed…
The Other Me
‘Falling’ iii. I always wanted to tell stories. As a kid, my imagination never stopped ticking. It drove stories early in primary school into accounts unrecognisable from the truth, and pushed them towards grandiosity when I got into the later grades. In high school, I’d handwrite epics – fifty or sixty pages long. If I watched movies, the movies would inspire me to similar ideas, or even to possible sequels. Ideas always tumbled around in my head. Even fantasies were accompanied with a narrative, a voice in my head that articulated how they unfolded. For a while, storytelling hid behind other teenage pursuits. At one time or another, I wanted…