I suppose that’s why they’re called highs. Like, on a graph; the very highest point exists only momentarily, then the graph procedes to decline, going reverse into the direction from which it came.
Oh baby, I was feeling so good, I was feeling so good. Perhaps one week, two weeks long of clarity and extreme mental growth, and happiness. But this state I’d achieved was more fragile than I had expected, and a few glasses of wine washed it away.
I mean, I’m all right now, too, but it’s not the same as that high I was hoping to maintain, at least until I was back in the United States, or at least until my Italian was hear to visit me. I don’t feel… lovable, like this.