Epinephrine (otherwise known as adrenaline): "a hormone that is secreted by theadrenal medulla in response to stress and increases in heart rate, pulse rate, and blood pressure, and raises the blood levels of glucose and lipids." In other words, that stuff that causes the butterflies to show up in your stomach. Personally, I don't associate the resulting feeling with anything even remotely as pleasant as butterflies. I'd say lava. Scorching, oozing lava that seeps around the stomach, up to my sternum and through every blood vessel which results in nausea, headaches and joint pain. Butterflies in your stomach wouldn't feel that way. That's right, they wouldn't feel like anything because they'd be disintegrated from my stomach acids.
I'll admit, sometimes the side-affects are worth it- like when riding roller coasters. That adrenaline is pumping when I'm up so high, dropping so fast, looping around, experiencing G forces that are entirely unnatural to the human body... But it's so fun, I couldn't care less about the rush of hormones. Besides, roller coasters would give me nausea, headaches and joint pain even without the adrenaline.
However, in nearly every other circumstance, I find the rush highly obnoxious. So, naturally, I try to avoid unnecessarily putting myself in situations that would bring it upon me.
Today, I found myself in one of those situations. It's nothing too exciting- certainly no Tower of Doom ride- but it was so unexpected: I was in somewhat of a daze from lack of sleep and I was sent to the library to print out something- for the class one wasn't working. I made it in there, signed in and somewhat breathlessly looked for the closest available computer. Just as I was beginning to slide out the chair, I noticed the person next to me: a boy I had slept with about a year ago that I had broken up with and stopped talking to due to his being despondent and feeble- oh yeah, and entirely disrespectful of my feelings. Anyways, it was at that exact moment of realization that he shifted his gaze to me. And it was that same exact moment of realization that punched my theadrenal medulla into action. For a nanosecond I contemplated turning around and making a bee-line to another, much farther, computer. But lo, society taught me better. By the next nanosecond I was sitting in front of that computer, signing into my school account. From the corner of my eye, I could see his puppy-like eyes still fixated on me. Luckily, I've mastered the art of feigned indifference. A few more times within the handful of minutes that I spent there, he glanced over. My paper printed, I signed out and hastily made my escape.
It was utter fear (of what, I wonder?) that opened the flood gates. Still, now, I'm suffering from the residual effects of the adrenaline. One split-second is all it took to form a new knot in the collection of them I have in my back muscles.
Granted, this strange, instinctual, animalistic sensation is necessary- but, you know, so are periods, and those are pretty damn annoying too. But unlike other animals, I'm human, which allows me to complain about it.
I'll admit, sometimes the side-affects are worth it- like when riding roller coasters. That adrenaline is pumping when I'm up so high, dropping so fast, looping around, experiencing G forces that are entirely unnatural to the human body... But it's so fun, I couldn't care less about the rush of hormones. Besides, roller coasters would give me nausea, headaches and joint pain even without the adrenaline.
However, in nearly every other circumstance, I find the rush highly obnoxious. So, naturally, I try to avoid unnecessarily putting myself in situations that would bring it upon me.
Today, I found myself in one of those situations. It's nothing too exciting- certainly no Tower of Doom ride- but it was so unexpected: I was in somewhat of a daze from lack of sleep and I was sent to the library to print out something- for the class one wasn't working. I made it in there, signed in and somewhat breathlessly looked for the closest available computer. Just as I was beginning to slide out the chair, I noticed the person next to me: a boy I had slept with about a year ago that I had broken up with and stopped talking to due to his being despondent and feeble- oh yeah, and entirely disrespectful of my feelings. Anyways, it was at that exact moment of realization that he shifted his gaze to me. And it was that same exact moment of realization that punched my theadrenal medulla into action. For a nanosecond I contemplated turning around and making a bee-line to another, much farther, computer. But lo, society taught me better. By the next nanosecond I was sitting in front of that computer, signing into my school account. From the corner of my eye, I could see his puppy-like eyes still fixated on me. Luckily, I've mastered the art of feigned indifference. A few more times within the handful of minutes that I spent there, he glanced over. My paper printed, I signed out and hastily made my escape.
It was utter fear (of what, I wonder?) that opened the flood gates. Still, now, I'm suffering from the residual effects of the adrenaline. One split-second is all it took to form a new knot in the collection of them I have in my back muscles.
Granted, this strange, instinctual, animalistic sensation is necessary- but, you know, so are periods, and those are pretty damn annoying too. But unlike other animals, I'm human, which allows me to complain about it.
