Legal Drugs.

I feel on "the edge". I feel as if I am about to jump off the top of a mountain and soar through the air like an awkward bird. With a parachute, of course. The adrenaline pumping through my veins is making me skip class. I'm intensly shaking as if I have just been chased by the po-po. I can't even write, my hands are quivering so much. The girl beside me keeps looking over. She probably thinks that I am on drugs. No, I shouldn't have had so much coffee this morning, I know. But I felt as if my sleep deprived body would need an extra dose of caffeine. My heart is pattering in my chest, I feel my pulse about to burst out my body like superman. Or underdog. Any minute now, their going to burst out of me, hand in hand, whooping and hollering like they are freed from prison or something. Wow, I do believe that the whole table I am sitting at is quivering. The girl is now staring at me. I turn to her. "I'm not on drugs, I swear!" Even though I intended it to be a whisper, it came out in a shrill, girly voice. The girl turned back to her studying, doubtful, and officially weirded out. She pulls out her phone and starts texting her anti-drug friends. She's probably telling them that she's sitting next to a real, live druggy. She wants my autograph, I can feel it. I contemplate giving her my honored signature, though, undeserved, I might feel important for all of three seconds. I decide against it.