Withdrawal

I remember when I was 6 or 7 we went to Great America with our babysitter. We had the time of our lives. We had coolers full of food and drinks and I can still remember how large and busy everything seemed. How exciting and irresistable it all was. I couldn't imagine anything better than that trip.

We drove home exhausted after nightfall and from what I've seen after a day like that kids usually fall asleep when their heads hit the pillow. But not me. I laid in my bed staring at the top bunk devastated. I knew I should be remembering the funnest day ever but instead my heart was heavy. There was a deep pit in my stomach and tears pooled in my eyes. I laid there tossing and turning for what seemed like forever, sobbing with the pain of a child who hasn't learn that its polite to hold in her tears.

I cried because I never thought I'd have that much fun again. That night I experienced my first withdrawal. The endorphins of a great day settling as I sobered back into my regular life.

This week I've been in withdrawal again, grasping at straws, searching for stimulation to stop me from falling so hard. This Christmas I remembered the feeling of real joy that can't be felt through a text message or a gchat. The feeling of having the ones you love right there beside you to talk about everything... or nothing at all.