My stomach is falling. Twisting. I feel like I'm about to vomit. My eyes blur; I can't see. It's unpleasant, yet my mind is swimming in some false sense of happiness. The breast stroke, to be precise. Wait for it. Here it comes... I'm hallucinating. Or dreaming. What's the difference? One is while you're awake, and the other comes with sleep; Obviously I know that, but, to be honest, I'm not sure which I'm doing at the moment. Either way, I'm envisioning things that can't possibly be real. I think he gave me one too many doses. I can't do anything. I can't even speak; It comes out in gurgles instead of words. I'm impaired. Yes, that's a good word. My speech is impaired, and apparently so was my judgment when I decided this would be a good idea. Tears begin to form in the deepest crevices of my eyes. I didn't think I'd lose this much control. I'm crying, but I'm not unhappy. In fact, I live for these few moments of pure bliss, when everything else goes away. I guess it's just a side effect. I really should sit down before I simply fall on my face.

People look at me disapprovingly for this, which leads to my ever-growing confusion. They act like me doing it is completely and totally bad: taboo even. But people have been doing it since the beginning of time. Romeo and Juliet. Jack and Rose. Noah and Allie. Everyone falls in love.