Sharing the voices in my head with the women of the night

Have you ever noticed the rush of adrenalin through the veins in your arms and hands? It happens whenever you are getting ready to do something that requires an increased flow of blood. Although it is most often recognized when preparing for a major exertion of energy, such as lifting weights, playing a sport and of course as a precipitable to the fight or flight response to stressful situations, it happens all the time.

In my post heart attack, hypersensitive state, I have become continually aware of minuscule fluctuations of the epinephrine hormone being excreted through my veins. Where I once excelled at working within stress filled environments, in so far as I was often accused of creating stressful stimuli, just to test the mettle of my fellow workers, I now find myself withdrawing from any exchange that causes the smallest hormonal ripple.

This regressive tendency of my depressed psyche to constantly reduce tension is setting me upon a path of self annihilation where my compulsive flight from stress, has manifested itself into long periods of silence throughout the daylight hours, as I withdraw from daily social interaction, followed by broken sleeping patterns, where I spend the darkened hours watching the repetitive stream of HBO & Showtime reruns.

However all is not lost, my desire for self-preservation grows, as I become increasingly infatuated with my women of the night. I might not be as powerful as Peg Gallagher yet, but I’m getting there. See you tonight ladies.