Day one

In my hand is a pill slightly smaller than the average paracetamol tablet. It’s white, smooth and smells faintly of sulphur. At its best it promises to make me more creative, boost my IQ by 20 points and send my productivity levels through the roof. But I am nervous. I keep thinking about a Bill Bailey sketch where he talks about dropping acid and spending hours intricately studying the angles of a chair leg (“forms an N, forms an N, forms an N”). Is this going to happen to me? Will I suddenly have an unhealthy interest in the minutiae of the London underground system? What if I wind up having some sort of drug induced breakdown? I’ve been told by a GP friend that while he thinks it’s silly to take a drug that’s not prescribed for me, he doesn’t think it’ll cause me harm. Still, I’m a bit concerned.

I eventually take my first Modafinil at 10am on a Monday morning. I’ve got an impossibly busy day ahead and I’m hoping this will perform some sort of miniature miracle. By 10.30am I start to feel its effects. Firstly, and rather oddly, my peripheral vision seems to widen. Everything becomes very sharp and bright. As our production editor, Gareth, talks us through next week’s issue, I notice a butterfly picture behind him. ‘Ah, a Purple Emperor,’ I think, and do a mental double-take. Where did that come from?

Later, my brain definitely feels like it’s working faster. I’m just so interested in everything. I read news stories about Mexican drug cartels with disproportionate excitement. I see a reference to children’s TV show Rastamouse on Twitter and decide it would be interesting, actually, to watch it. I plough through my workload with unnerving speed and bash through interview transcriptions without any distractions. “I’ve never seen you typing so quickly,” laughs one of my colleagues. I look down and see my hands moving cartoonishly fast.

But, around lunchtime, things start getting a little weird. Everything around me appears extremely bright, almost dazzling. And there are flashing spots in front of my eyes. I worry for a moment that I’m going blind (coincidentally, anxiety is a major side effect of Modafinil). My appetite has been completely wiped out, too. All I manage is one banana, a mug of milky cereal and crisps. Things get even worse that night in bed. I lie there in a state of paranoia imagining various burglar-coming-through- the-window scenarios. After hours of tossing, turning and huffing, I eventually get to sleep at 4am.

Day two

Surprisingly, I wake up feeling quite alert. Even though I’ve already experienced some negative side effects, I’m excited about what I’ll achieve on the drugs today. In my mind, I’m more articulate on Modafinil and am able to express myself better (on paper at least). I feel like I’m producing some of my best work ever. But, in truth when I look back on my notes post-drugs I realise that everything I’ve written is utter dross.

I’m also noticing myself becoming increasingly scatty, and my spatial awareness seems to be deteriorating, too. I knock into things, and people. It feels like my brain is working much faster than my mouth as I stammer my way through even the most basic sentences. And while I felt calm on the drug at first I start to get frustrated if things don’t come to me immediately. I get genuinely irritated when I can’t remember the words ‘Lindt chocolate truffles’; I’m on the pills, I should remember everything.

Then there’s the paranoia. Whenever I say anything to my colleague, Amy, I feel like she is looking at me with an expression of utter incredulity. This is probably because my people skills have been wrecked by the Modafinil. I feel a little drunk and it’s almost as if I don’t trust myself. It’s unnerving. Ironically, I’m now performing well below my normal mental function. I’m burning up and have a huge red flush across my chest. I’m incredibly thirsty, too, refilling my 1.2 litre water bottle three times a day. I also feel like my nose is about to bleed. I read one story of a woman who stayed awake on Modafinil for 60 hours and became temporarily blind with a nose gushing blood. Am I going to be the next horror story? I lie awake until 3am that night. My boyfriend says the drugs are making me “loopy” and urges me to stop.

Only Smart Pills Have The Answer?