Epinephrine


It is the feeling that you get when you beat procrastination.

Like starting on an assignment only 12 hours before it is due.

Or to breeze through a 10-pages midyear exam, even only after browsing through the class notes and textbooks 2 days before the exam starts (unlike your other pissant classmates who toiled late into the night for a whole month with a candlelight vigil to stay up to study what you can study in a lunch-hour).

Or to pull from behind a girl's pigtails with full force that her head would rattle and her snot would land back onto her nose -- and you run and you run and you run as fast as your feet can carry you, as she holds an imaginary iron hammer in her hand to smash your boy-skull with. (Can you still hear her shrieking?)

It's that kind of feeling, y'know?

The kind that we will truly miss once we hit adulthood.

Do you think you can enter the rat-race working world without kicking its door down like Rambo? Do you think you can enter marriage without flinging your testicles around like John Wayne? Do you think you can be as good a father to your children as Dad without quoting his wisdom? Do you think you can be as sexually aroused as running over a crossing squirrel with your bike?

I don't think so, old man.

Then:
You used to be cool and suave and athletic and charismatic and wild and perfectly coiffed.

Now:
You would feel grateful that rowdy teenagers would spare their mercy on your fat, bald soul.