Miss Aida
30 seconds of inhalation and I was reminded once again of the girl I once was. Of feelings I once had, and feelings that used to remain with me. Of happiness.

Wow. That little bottle packed more of a punch than I thought. Whoever said you couldn't package happiness in a bottle was dead wrong.

At first there was the initial suspicion. Then came the amusement, followed closely by curiousity, and the burning desire of experimentation. The rational, logical medical student inside me made the relevant queries, of mechanisms and mode of actions and side effects, and once she was satiated, I threw caution to the winds and inhaled.

Artificial happiness in a bottle. If only it was permanent.

Nevertheless, it was enough to kickstart that little something I needed. That preliminary high led to a reminder of how I used to be – that extra couple of minutes of pure, undiluted happiness due to the chemical reactions firing off in my brain, those wonderful sensations that I had been missing the past couple of weeks, and the rest was just adrenaline and the realisation that I wanted to feel this way again. On my own terms.

To smile once again at blue skies and feel those feelings bubbling inside me. To laugh once again with that child inside me, and to realise that the hurting was essential for my healing.

The irony of it all. It took me party drugs to make me realise that I could get up back on my own two feet and take charge of my life once again.
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