In her state, everything felt so real. She saw things that wasn't there. Her body response to just her thoughts. If she imagines pain, she would feel it in her body. If she imagines pleasure, her body would shake and tremble, rocked by her orgasmic thoughts alone. It was out of control. She even wished for the euphoria to stop, as she feared she would not have the strength to face the crushing reality at the end of the trip; the reality that none of it was real. None of it mattered, really. She was too high to care.
She thought of everything. She figured everything out. She solved every puzzle that necessitate solving. She searched for god, she found god, and she became god. She understood everything. Everything was so clear to her. She wrote a book about them. A book about god, about life and death, about love and fucking. It was a really good book, but it was all in her head. She wished that she could record her thoughts somehow, but she knew it would be all in vain. Words could not describe the thoughts she had. It saddens her to know that she will die, carrying all the thoughts with her. Then, she thought of him. He is he only chance she has to share that book with. She would live out the book with him, instead.
It was a wonderful thought.
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