Am I on drugs, I hear you ask. Oh, nearly so. Stashed away in my drawers are sleeping pills for long flights which I have been intending to use to calm my sleepless nights brought upon by stress, paranoia, nightmares and the dreadful summer heat. But no, I haven't taken them yet.
It's that final realisation that your life is not meant to be permanently bound to constant pressure, pain and disappointment.
For example, exam times, which everybody can relate. As the dates draw nearer, I grow increasingly panicky, frantically trying to cram every single last detail into my exhausted brain. Sleeping hours grow shorter, anxiety attacks become more frequent. And then, right at the last moment, I drift into a welcoming state of calmness. I like to call the this moment the 'f*ck-it' state. The weight just lifts of your shoulders because you know you've done the best you can. Or more crudely put, I don't give a rat's ass any more.
That's where I'm at right now, but not as a consequence of an exam. This is the aftermath of an argument. Oh yes, the 'f*ck-it' state applies to most any stressful event. Like any physiological system, the process can be staged. First there's the adrenaline rush of anger followed by a dull stress fuelled with corticosteroids due to or lead by sadness and disappointment. Finally, we reach the 'f*ck-it' state.
In this state, I am mentally screaming with a haughty air "Bring it on, world! Do your worst!" Because I really don't give a *beeeeep* what happens.