Time Slipped

The beats bounced around me.  Their vibrations caressed me, pulsed through me.  The driving four-to-the-flour pounding bass engulfed my entirety.  There was nothing but the sensation, that wonderful joy, of having the music fuse with my nerves.  I was the beats and rhythm.  I was the snare and breakdown.

Time slipped.

I have no idea how long I’d been sitting in front of the speaker, a giant Tonka floor unit, with my back pressed against it and my eyes closed when the tap on my shoulder startled me back to reality.  Well, as back to reality as I could manage at that moment.

My eyes blinked against the flashing strobe lights, the tracers lagging vibrantly behind twirling glowsticks, the rising and falling of the dancing masses, and they shut again.  It was too much to process.  But a shudder of pleasure radiated out from my shoulder again as the tapping returned and my need to know who was trying to get my attention snapped my lids open.  I turned my head slightly upward to peer into their face.

He spoke but I couldn’t hear him.

I focused on his lips but I couldn’t process the movements.  They were beautiful but I didn’t know what words they were trying to form.  Such simple movements, slight twitches, slight tugs one way or the other, that hold such power.  Without them there would be no words, no voice.  Beautiful seemed inadequate to describe them.

I shrugged my shoulders.  I think I did anyway.  He shook his head and held his hand out to me.  With much effort I pulled my gaze down to his hand, but couldn’t see what was there.  Was he trying to give me something?  Was he trying to help me up?  Was he just trying to shake my hand?

I can’t tell you for sure, because the DJ dropped a new track, the bass pulsed in time with my heart and my eyes closed as the ecstasy of music rolled through me.

Time slipped, again.

When I remembered the man and his outstretched hand I gathered the strength of will to allow my eyes to brave the swirling lights, but the man was gone, and I was left to wonder if he had ever been there at all.  If he hadn’t, why had I imagined him?  If he had, what was he trying to tell me?  What was he trying to give me?

These are just a few of the unanswered questions that would haunt me in the days that followed.  They piled up and tormented me, and eventually forced me change my lifestyle.  I couldn’t handle the not knowing.  I didn’t ever want to be that far out of control ever again.  It was reason enough.  It worked.

But, those unanswered questions and lost moments where time slipped remain.  They haunt me still.



40 thoughts on “Time Slipped

  1. This was really hard for me to read.

    Hard, because I wish you didn’t have those lost moments.

    But also hard because I’m really struggling with my own addiction right now. I won’t pick up, but I don’t think I’ve been this tempted in years.

    I suppose…I could blog about it? Here would be the place.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Reblogged this on Stuphblog and commented:

    Addiction is a parasite. It steals life and time. Blackouts, time away that is not remembered, missing moments, just one consequence. Please head on over to Stories That Must Not Die to read more (please click follow while you are there). Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Definitely not alone. I’m sorry to hear that you have lost moments as well, though I am happy to know that this story brought you some comfort.

      If you ever feel like sharing one of your lost moment stories here, you are welcome to do so. You can use the share your story page linked above.


    • Yeah… hearing loss. That will probably be a future post. It hadn’t bothered me until recently, and now I’ve begun noticing that I’m having trouble hearing things around me… It is a bit frightening actually.


  3. Oh, I have way too many of those lost moments in my history. This piece is a double edged sword….it made me feel, remember. But it made me realize I an not alone, never was. Strange comfort in that.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Unfortunately, I am familiar with this concept. I haven’t experienced it in years, but I almost committed suicide in one of my “slips.” I was lucky enough to recognize I needed help & get it, but it was just the beginning of a lifetime of mental health issues.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. “I focused on his lips but I couldn’t process the movements. They were beautiful but I didn’t know what words they were trying to form. Such simple movements, slight twitches, slight tugs one way or the other, that hold such power. Without them there would be no words, no voice. Beautiful seemed inadequate to describe them.” – I hate the things that took even a minute of time from you, and what that slipping meant it could have done to you… but I love these words. They are just wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

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