User:PiperGK1

PiperGK1 is a story-teller, a known alcoholic, who suffered for many years with bipolar disorder, chronic insomnia, and depression. A creative outlet, much of his early writing was fictional fantasy and horror.

Thought to be a "troubled" youth, PGK1 spent time in residential substance-abuse treatment centers in his mid- and late-teens. Whether or not it was the source of his behavioral problems, testing revealed that he was not only a highly emotional and creative individual, but that he had an unusually high intelligence quotient. Labeled by doctors as "genius," this failed to hold any impact on his self-image. Pressured to attempt a MENSA test at age 30, he became a member of the American MENSA, though never renewed beyond the first year. A "frustrated genius," PGK1 succumbed to narcissistic desire and had his IQ professionally tested at 35, the score being 165.

Deep into depression and alcoholism, PGK1 spent his adult life in flourish and famine, finding infamy and personal tragedy in work and life.

In his 40's, PiperGK1 succumbed to bouts of unforeseen seizures resulting in extended hospitalizations. Doctors speculated that PGK1 may have had alcohol withdrawal symptoms well beyond the normal scope of detoxification in a controlled environment. When asked about his level of consumption, doctors were either unable or unwilling to believe the type, frequency, and quantity of alcohol he claimed to have consumed on a regular basis.

PiperGK1 Story Untold – Seizure

The first thing I felt was a brush of cold against my right cheek. I had arms, and hands, which would have easily reached up and whisked the sensation away from my face. I couldn't move, and could not will myself to shake, grind, or slither any extremity, in spite of the insistence to my brain that this was merely a dream.

I looked forward, wanting to search my surroundings but unable to make out anything in my periphery. My breath came in gasps; I felt the involuntary shudder of paralytic life, breathing heavily, while my body devoured oxygen and my muscles awakened.

My eyes opened, which felt a frequent thing. I thought I must have been here for moments, but truthfully dreamed it had been hours, days perhaps. Once the fog had lifted, I felt something more sinister was peering out from beneath the curtain of my consciousness. In scattered, helpless scenes I saw people I knew, some I didn't, and heard words I barely recognized...

"Hello."

It was the first thing that made sense, and inside my head I responded, Hello. Nothing back, though it felt like I knew this was the way out of the darkness. I tried to feel around me, beginning with my fingers, or toes. There was no movement, no sensation beyond hearing that one word, which came back to me again. This time, the word was attached to something, and its familiarity brought me closer. The words were like tendrils, wrapping themselves inexorably through me, pulling me out of darkness and into something cold, damp, and unyielding. I was held captive in it, as if drowning in quicksand, without the strength to call out a response. The weight of it on my chest was stifling. I felt the urge to scream, and as it welled up within my throat, I heard a weak and desperate sound leak from my lips.

"Michael."

My eyes opened to brightness that immediately shut them against it, and there was a sudden feeling that swept through my body of loathsome nausea. Behind my eyelids, I saw a kaleidoscope of colors, and felt a sudden lightness in my head as though it were filled with gas, separating my brain from bones. Looking forward, it felt as though I were staring through a camera, feeding the world to me in a live picture of what was happening, yet unreal. I reached instinctively with my right hand up into my left jacket pocket, my fingers touching the outline of the leather wallet inside. It was me, all there, and I was grateful for some reason to have this small tether to reality, a talisman.

(Unfinished, 4/9/2018)