Once, I took a whole xanax bar and slept for two days, straight. I was round my friend Julie's kitchen table,talking about mushrooms with her drug dealer and trying out a free blue pill. I remember feeling tired, and asking Julie if I could nap in her bed. Flash through the haze, later, I recall waking in panic, and calling my best friend back home to ask what time and date it was. A bit dramatic, but I woke up with not mine, but Julie's, phone besides me- and his was the only number I knew by heart. In retrospect, I don't know why I didn't just look at the LCD display for the clock.
Maybe I didn't trust it.
Nonetheless, I still wake up sometimes with absolutely no idea where the fuck I am. Stone sober, even, but none. Even if I'm in my room, it sometimes takes a few seconds to piece it up..."oh. so that's a brick wall...which means I'm in a brick room, which is my room- I live here, yeah- that's my stuff...I put it up like that- so that is, half a year now, almost.and that's New York, right out that window. And...what time is it? What day is it? What am I doing today? Oh god, I'm late for...." and so on.
Wheat's going on, in which world, and most importantly- why?