BUT I was also other things.
I was the after-image I glimpsed in my friends’ affection. I was intelligent, articulate, charming, positive, stately, spiritual. A unique and beautiful snowflake. And beneath the seethe these qualities lurked, waiting for me to stop paying attention.
And I was ambitious. And I was amorous. And I knew I was destined for great things. I’d been promised. We all had. And this was my shot. And it was going to define me, you understand?
It was a fucking definition.
And for this reason, these qualities - maybe also to better grip - I began to think grander as the weeks passed. I decided my travels had to be about more than just festivals. I decided they had to be about self renewal as well.
That from them I should emerge repaired, enhanced, a six million dollar man - gentlemen we can rebuild him, we have the technology - faster, stronger, bionic, moving with a satisfying dbo-o-oo-i-i-n-ng sound. An Izzy Mark 2.
I was a phoenix, and I would rise.
With an X cut across my chest and my fists raised in protest, I would join my straight edge brethren and eschew the evil opiates of the modern world.
Not for me any longer nicotine and caffeine and sugar and pot and TV and recreational drugs - all must go. (But not meat. Meat was tasty. Meat was good.) I had four months to detox before hitting the northern summer and its festivals high on life, able to dance all night on water, good vibes and the contact high.
I would be a shining example to all.
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