My uncle Donnie used to hold rat races every Friday night, you know with
actual rodents to place bets on. Well every blue moon they'd feed the
rats "crystal." I'll tell you something, these rats ran faster than they
ever had before, and with glorious purpose. These vermin speed-racers
would set new records. The thing is, they never stopped. These rodents
would run circles upon circles around this track. Even if you caged them
after, they'd they just run in place. More than a few times, those rats
would die of a heart attack, fall over right where they were, and that
was that.
Every new high comes
at the price of ten more milligrams. It's true what they say, an addict
will spend a lifetime chasing after that first high. So you're two
hundred milligrams deep, two days awake, and can't remember the last
time you ate. This transcendent level of euphoria might be the only time
your entire life will flash before your eyes, well this and dying. "We
didn't start the fire" by Billy Joel plays from the jukebox of my mind.
Replacing the lyrics with events in my lifetime, things like, Y2K, 9/11,
and the first black president. But no matter where this "roller coaster
ride" takes me, I always think back to my uncles story. Somewhere in it
I'm positive is a metaphor for human life.