Chapter 6 - Amygdala Chat

                                        

                                              
I woke up with a mighty snort, and my first thought was, 'why the fuck does my heaven look exactly like my piece of shit apartment? Unless this is hell. Shit. I went the other way. Ah well. Maybe I won't have to pay rent down here.'
For a person who'd never gone to church a day in her life, I found it pretty fast the second I thought I was dead.
Turns out I wasn't dead. Far from it. I wished I was dead. I had the worst headache in recorded hi온라인카지노게임. If they had a world record for the worst headaches of all time, this one would win, hands down. I could barely move without wincing, and I could feel my brain with every heartbeat.
"What the hell was that?" I wondered aloud. I was acutely aware of every part of my body in a way I had never felt. Every move was tracked, every inch of my skin knew exactly where it was and where the others were in relation to it. I didn't love the feeling. Sometimes it was nice just letting your legs do what they were supposed to, trust my hands to operate as they should. If I thought about my ass muscle every time I took a step, I would lose my mind. Hopefully, this was a temporary situation.
As my brain caught up to my body, my thoughts drifted back to the hole in my closet, but somehow I knew it was already gone. I stumbled to my feet and staggered over to the closet; sure enough, the hole was gone. My damage-deposit-ruining carpet destruction was still painfully obvious, but the actual hole in the floor was long gone. 
The thought of my asshole landlord 'popping by' for a 'random inspection' made my bum cheeks quiver. Whenever I got nervous or angry, they got all weird and fluttery. I couldn't explain it, something about heightened situations activated my cakes, and they were motoring. My mouth went dry, and I could have guzzled down a lake. 
Then I had one of those moments, for the second time in about five real-time minutes, where my old life vanished before my eyes, and a new one unfolded without me knowing what the hell was going on. 
Water started running from my sink. It took a second for the rest of my senses to respect my ears. I imagine that conversation was a pain-in-the-ass for them.
Ears: Guys, I hear something.
Eyes: Nope. It's not happening.
Ears: Seriously. It sounds like water. Why would it sound like water?
Touch: I don't feel any water. You sure?
Smell: I'm useless here. Unless it's piss or something, water's hard to point out. Is it a wet dog? That's water that smells.
Taste: Don't ask me. We should make Mac rethink her oral hygiene routine. It tastes like shit in here.
Ears: For fuck's sake, dudes, just check out the sink. We're supposed to be a team here!
And I wondered why I didn't have any friends. Del didn't count because he was just as weird as me and probably imagined sense conversations, too. 
I let my ears win and looked over at the sink. 
The tap was on full blast, water streaming out and splashing over the too-low sides. I was alone. I hadn't turned it on. My first thought in my heightened bum-quivering state was that I was haunted, but that notion was stopped in its tracks as a wild, insane theory crossed my imagination—a dangerous place, to be sure. An unchecked imagination can be the most wonderful place in the universe, but it can also lead to trouble. That sounded like a quote from somewhere, but I was pretty sure my tiny brain cooked it up just then.
'Did I do that?' I thought. Had I subconsciously turned the tap on when I thought about how thirsty I was? How was that possible? That kind of shit didn't happen. Before my closet adventures, I would have told myself to shut the fuck up and go back to sleep. Now, I was willing to go on a little trip down 'you're clearly on drugs' lane.
I couldn't just waste all that water; it had to go somewhere for me to drink it. A tiny part of me – maybe not so tiny – was freaking out and shrieking, 'GO TURN THE TAP OFF AND GO BACK TO SLEEP! NONE OF THIS IS REAL! YOU PLAY TOO MANY VIDEO GAMES, AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS!' My self-talk was an asshole most of the time, but this time I ignored it.
I needed a cup. Thoughts of Luke Skywalker struggling with a lightsaber in the ice, seconds away from death in the gaping maw of the wampa, flashed through my head – was I seriously considering 'using the Force?' Only this wasn't 'the Force.' That was a whole thing with chlorine or cholera or something with a hard 'ch' sound at the front. This was probably a lack of sleep, caffeine, and the stress of my head injury. My eye still hurt, the closet adventure notwithstanding. 
A dirty mug – my only mug – stood by the sink. I knew it was dirty because I was the only one who would have washed it, and I had very much not washed it just yet. I couldn't even remember what I'd drunk out of it last – probably tea. Tea was cheaper than coffee and didn't give me a hard case of the jangles if I went overboard. I didn't drink enough water – was that why my head was in such a weird place? 
Had my countless hours of rolling dice to attack bugbears and beholders at Del's house warped my sense of reality so much that I was genuinely entertaining the idea of moving shit with my mind in my kitchen?
At that moment, I didn't care. Not one iota. I was having fun, and that hadn't happened very much lately. I focused all my energy on the mug. Every fibre in my body, every muscle, every bone, every nerve I channeled into moving it. Did it shudder, or had I just sharted? My nose felt like it was running, or maybe it was a nosebleed. I didn't get nosebleeds, not usually. I hated the saying, 'there's a first time for everything,' but it felt appropriate at the moment.
My bones screamed, my amygdala was doing everything in its power to shut the system down and reboot – maybe after some chocolate – and my vision blurred. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and kept my laser focus on the mug. Had it moved at all? Was that just me fluttering around like a leaf? 
Then, as my muscles gave out and I couldn't stop the tears streaming down my face, the mug shifted – barely – and some fuzzy brown liquid slopped out over the rim. I laughed – once – and crumpled to the floor as if my soul had just flown free.