The flowers of the summers of my youth

The moon was full and brash that night. We ran out and all around the silver. The nightscape was treacherous with mercury streams and shadows and branches, but we didn’t care. My God that shit was strong. I climbed a tree and jumped out into space and down from I don’t know how high and rolled and kept running I didn’t know where. The others shambled like mad wraiths across the meadow and stared up at the stars. I stopped and looked at them and gloom came down on me… I thought of how it would be if we were sober. We wouldn’t even be there. We’d be lounging somewhere, watching TV, playing pool. Or if we were there, we’d be strolling at random, kicking tufts, snorting when someone made a lame joke… It was either that or this and a grey world the next day. I took another pill and pretended I was a shooting star across the wild grass, and the rush to the brain blasted the questions in my head until I woke up the next morning, so I did the same the next night, except I did it alone, because no matter how high I got I hated the way the others got, hated looking at them.