JOY

The last time I felt joy I was moments from death. I was so high I could feel my heartbeat in my eyes and I didn't even care that I was tethering on the line between life and death. I was lying on the floor of my living room, nose caked with cocaine and snot, forehead shining with sweat, body so translucent and bloodless that I couldn't tell where the bruises on my legs stopped and started but none of that mattered. I was praying, I was begging God to let me die because I wanted to die having known joy and I could not think of anything more joyful than a rush of artificial energy, the smell of cigarettes on my hands, and the rough pile of the rug on the back of my neck.

Dear god, if you are wondering whether or not you should kill me right now I am promising you that I won't be mad if you do. There is no one awake to save me. I do not want to be saved. I told myself I would stay alive until I was certain I had known joy and I swear there is no joy greater than knowing this high.

The last time I felt joy I was flickering in and out wondering if I should wake up my roommate and make her take me to the hospital. I knew she was just as high as I was and it even occurred to me that she could be dead and I would never know because for the life of me I could not imagine pulling myself off of the carpet to do anything at all. It occurred to me that she might be sad when she found me the next morning, dead on the living room floor, a smile spread across my face. It occurred to me that it would take several days for someone to tell my boss and that she would spend the first days of my nonexistence thinking I had quit. But none of this mattered to me at all. All I could possibly bring myself to care about was how good the taste of gasoline in the back of my throat was, and how beautiful the rhythm of my shaking hands made as tapped on the floor was. All I could think about was how lovely it would be to live this feeling forever. To have no responsibility other than maintaining this high. To have no bills to pay or job to go to or students to be responsible for or friendships to keep or texts to send or email to keep up with or calls to make. Just this feeling until it kills me.

Joy was being high. Joy was dying high enough not to care about being human.