OK, I’ll admit it wasn’t an accident, but I didn’t exactly plan it, either. It just happened, the way things you have some control over, but also know are inevitable, happen. The first time was so easy and it made me feel so good – for a short while, at least – that I had to repeat the experience. I just had to. It was like visiting a fairground and finding yourself in the queue for the biggest, scariest ride there is, knowing that you’re going to be terrified out of your mind, but waiting in line and getting on it anyway, because you also know you’re about to enjoy a thrill like no other. And then the barriers come down, and it’s too late to change your mind, and you’re away! You scream all the way through, begging somebody, anybody, to stop the ride so you can get off. You’re dizzy and sick and certain you’re only seconds away from death. But when the ride ends, you feel exhilarated, alive, like you’re invincible. And the moment you climb off, and your excitement fades, you’re dying to get straight back on again.
