"Micheal? Are you feeling okay?"
My head snapped to the left. "Yeah," I said. "I mean... why wouldn't I be?" My eyes were wide. The fact that he was asking if I was feeling okay implied that something about me WASN'T okay, or in other words, I was acting weird, right? But I never act weird. No, it's always in my control, I always have everything in my control. For example, the length of time I spend watching TV, on the rare occasion that I do. In my control. How much food I eat. In my control. The clothes I wear, my posture, my social stature. All in my control. Even things that aren't in my control, such as time, are still in my control. Because I know that I spend 8 hours unconscious, and 16 hours fully aware. I sleep for 8 hours every night to compensate for the 16 hours I spend awake. That's in my control. And 16 hours isn't very long, so I make sure that I make the most of my 16 hours, so not one hour can go to waste. That's in my control. But he asked me if I was feeling okay. Did that mean I was acting weird? But why would I be? My behavior is under my control, and I choose not to act weird. I wondered what my ex-wife Mary would think.
"Your legs are twitching, yo."
I looked down, and they were indeed twitching. Why? If I had not known that they were twitching, obviously they were doing so beyond my control, right? Stop, I ordered. They did. I looked up at Mark. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said. I looked into his eyes. I was used to the cool blue of his iris surrounding his pupil, but now it was like staring into black holes. The iris was merely a room around a penny. "Your eyes," I gasped.
"Your eyes too," he said, showing me my reflection in a handheld mirror. Sure enough, my eyes were dilated as well. Suddenly my face began to change color. It started to grey and wither, starting to age into the face of an old man. My eyes widened in fear as boils erupted from my face and I morphed into some goblin like entity. I touched my face, my heart racing in fear. "What the fuck, man," I whispered. "What the fuck!"
He pulled the mirror away. "Sorry, should have warned you about the mirrors. Scary shit man." Suddenly the wall behind him began to bend and morph. It popped out at me, before collapsing inwards, breathing, changing color too, from a deep brown to vivid orange. I could hear it breathe.
"The walls are breathing," I said, looking around. "Where are we."
Mark laughed. "Chill man. It's just the affects kicking in."
I felt my arm itch. I started to scratch it, looking down as I did so. Suddenly the hairs on my arm started to grow, entwining together like some kind of mutated vines. "What the fuck man." I pulled my sleeve down. But then my fingers started to bend in a rather unhealthy way. I immediately clenched my fists and looked away.
"You need to chill. None of this is real, it's all in your head, just enjoy it."
I shrugged. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. What time is it?"
He looked at his watch. "7:30," he replied. Good, I thought. Something at least seemed normal. It felt like 7:30. I scratched my nose, suddenly inserting my index finger deeply into my right nostril. I hooked it and started to yank vigorously at my nostril.
"Micheal? What are you doing?"
I looked at him and stopped. "Is this normal?" I asked.
"Dude, this is your first acid trip. Abnormal behavior is completely normal."
"I'm not going to do anything stupid, am I?" I asked. "Don't let me do anything stupid..."
