Queasy from the Rollercoaster

It's an exhilarating feeling-up and up, watching the ground recede in time with the "click-click, click-click, click-click" of the machinery. My excitement always builds to a fever pitch as I survey the intricately engineered track I'm about to travel at high speeds, and just before we reach the top of that first climb I silence for the last time the voice that warns repeatedly that I should have stayed on the ground; I'm already strapped in, there's nothing to be done now but enjoy. It's always a fantastic adventure, but it also always ends too abruptly. I disembark, confused by the solid pavement, questioning whether or not I was really flying so high just moments before, savoring every drop of my adrenaline rush. Then it hits me-overindulgence has consequences, and they're never fun. It's always such a nasty comedown that I immediately start searching for a bigger, crazier, wilder ride, and I repeat the process until there is nothing left to do but stand, exhausted and a bit ill, and remember how it felt to be so high and so free.