Can the feeling of ‘high’ be self-induced?
Fresh out of college, my two closest friends and I joined an immersion activity where we had to run a workshop. It was another adventure in our ongoing saga of chaotic brilliance, and traveling together meant one thing – we’d find humor in everything, even from the most sober perspective. Our exchanges felt like encrypted jokes, but in truth, no words were needed. The moment we were together, laughter was on autopilot.
During the workshop, one girl stood out—mostly because she wasn’t participating. She looked perpetually annoyed, complained of a constant headache, and stayed detached. I figured she was just being dramatic, so we let her be.
A few days later, with our workshop duties done, we decided to explore the next town. We didn’t expect her to be tagging along, but apparently, her migraine had worsened. Her parents urgently requested arrangements for her return, and she would be taking the bus back home after lunch.
While the facilitator stepped away, she pulled us aside. She had a confession. She told us she felt we would “understand” because we all had something in common.
Our curiosity peaked. Was she a secret artist? A fellow overthinker? Then she said it: she was “on the same thing.”
My friends and I exchanged blank looks. Same thing?
She elaborated. She had taken too much before the trip, and when she met us, she just knew we were on it too. She could tell – we had the signs.
We still didn’t get it. What was she talking about?
Then, she blurted it out:
“I took (a certain drug) too.”
We stared at each other. This would have been hilarious as a joke, but she was dead serious. She really thought our natural state was a drug-induced peak. Keeping a straight face became a physical battle. She kept pouring her heart out, never once stopping to confirm if we were actually high.
And so she explained – she and a friend had stocked up before the trip, taking way more than the “safe” dose to compensate for the week away. The migraines felt like her brain was swelling and melting, like it had holes, and in my mind, that visual could make a great album cover. (Sorry…)
I held my breath, and bit my lip, trying not to meet the eyes of my friends who were also trying to keep a neutral expression. She took a deep breath, and continued.
“When I saw you guys – laughing all the time, talking nonsense, finding everything funny – I knew you were taking it too.”
We couldn’t help but internally awww.
We were just happy people. And yes, we may have looked suspiciously high, but nope—it was pure vibes and great company, nothing more. Hard to believe, but yes, we are sober by default.
After her unexpectedly detailed confession, we finally broke the news.
NO, we were not on any drug. Not even the home-grown kind. This was simply us – at our most natural, no filters, no substances, and we wouldn’t snitch on her.
She looked skeptical. How could we be what we really were without anything? Meanwhile, she had needed substances just to get to that level. I also didn’t know what to say. Never really thought about it.
We talked for a while longer. Despite the wild misunderstanding, I appreciated that she trusted us, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. She was actually fun to hang out with once the “secret” was out.
After lunch, we said our goodbyes and wished her a speedy recovery. We never heard from her again, but I’ll always remember the girl who thought our friendship was narcotic induced.
