The world sharpened. Colors bled neon. The living room clock spun backward, then forward, then sideways. I wasn't me anymore. I was notmygrandpa , leaning into the webcam with a crooked grin, saying, “Back in my day… we got hyper off one root beer barrel.”
But this wasn't his day. This was a chemical rebellion. My blood turned to syrup, my thoughts to pop rocks. I danced like no one was watching — because no one was. Just me, the glowing screen, and a borrowed face that wasn't family, but felt like folklore. notmygrandpa sugar rush
The TikTok filter warped his face into a glittering, wide-eyed cherub. He wasn't my grandpa — just a kindly old man from a viral sound bite, lipsyncing to a sped-up drill beat. But when the candy melted on my tongue — a sour watermelon slice, then a fizzy cola bottle — something snapped. The world sharpened
Sugar rush: two minutes of chaos. Notmygrandpa : forever. I wasn't me anymore
I hit pause. Licked my teeth. The rush faded. But the smile stayed — old, new, and not quite mine.