Weight: 120 lbs
Dosage: 30 mg
4-HO-MiPT oral in gel cap, 30 mg O-PCE Intranasal
Setting: My apartment
T0:00-I dose the cap of 4-HO-MiPT
first and decide that because it’s a nice day, I’m going to visit a place where
immense Datura inoxia grows and harvest some seeds and leaves for the novelty
of having them. My friend drives me out there and drops me off.
T0:30-I already feel like I’m
coming up. While collecting seeds an elderly man comes up next to me and begins
to do the same. I wonder if he knows the same things about this plant that I
do. We make conversation, all while I am still coming up. I feel a bit nauseous
and uncomfortable, and colors look brighter as we talk. Conversation is
slightly awkward and I find myself getting fixated on certain words or phrases
he says, though I feel like I did not come across as suspect. As I start
walking home, I am feeling very smiley, the sky is rippling and pulsing with
rainbows and colors above me and the air is swirling in great rainbow sweeps
around me. I am feeling pretty nauseous and uncomfortable, moreso than I
usually do from this drug. The walk home is at once both pleasant and anxious,
as I want to get home and flop on my bed and provide myself brief alleviation from
the nausea and muscular discomfort and sweating.
T1:10-I arrive home. I am still
feeling a bit sick and I’m kind of apprehensive about snorting the O-PCE that I
laid out for myself before I left. I dawdle around for a bit trying to postpone
the action before finally biting the bullet and doing it.
T1:20-I snort the line, it feels
like nothing. I am queasy as hell and trying to hold myself together as the 4-HO-MiPT
ravages me like a thunderstorm. My innards are being tossed about in the
shearing wind and storm surges, my muscles are clenching and it feels like my
head is sinking in on itself. I have done higher doses than this with less body
load. I wonder what’s up with this. I
smoke a little bit of cannabis to try and ease the nausea.
T1:25-Per usual, the O-PCE wastes
no time making itself known. I already feel very gummy, like I am soft and
gelatinous, like my solid bones and flesh have suddenly decided to become more amorphous
and resilient. The drip is salty and not as unpleasant as many other drugs can
be. When I lie down it feels like something is being pulled out of me or pulled
out from under me, but I cannot really focus on it or bring it entirely to my
attention. It is as if I am helpless to stop this reeling of my existence away.
It’s like that trick when someone pulls the table cloth off of a fully set
table, and if they do it right, everything remains on the table. Some part of
me remains here, but something in my foundation is being stealthily, swiftly,
and efficiently removed.
T1:30-The O-PCE pummels me like
great nimbus clouds being blown by a gale. I am incredibly dizzy and floppy and
dissociated, walking is extremely difficult. It feels like everything around me
has become soft wet plants, soggy from torrential rain or soaking in puddles,
it feels like the vulnerable softness of fresh leaves, leaves that will dent
and scratch and tear. It feels like the soft waxiness of young datura leaves.
Those plants I harvested earlier are on my mind, and I am getting visions of
their great green leaves and trumpeting flowers. It is at once fresh and
stagnant. The bodyload is still incredible, I figured a dissociative would pull
me away from the physical discomfort, but to no avail, my entire body has
disappeared save for my unfortunate digestive tract, which feels like its
festering and rotting, like it is composed of decaying leaves that are crawling
with worms and centipedes. And yet, despite the fount of life that typically
inhabits decaying material, it still feels so sterile, so chemical, so empty and
dead. There are barely any visuals. With my eyes open, the world honestly looks
normal, save for some warping and drifting and faint color shifts. The headspace
however, is an alien realm of tangled vegetation sinking into an infinite muddy
pit, I am altered beyond altered, and though can see and perceive this world
clearly, it makes absolutely zero sense to me.
T1:45-My innards are twisting and
tangling, they are fighting with eachother and their sinews have become
furiously intertwined, flexing and bulging to the point where it seems they
might rupture. This is entirely and ravenously unpleasant. Comfort has become a
myth. It feels like I am coming to pieces from within, that I am dissolving
into the medium around me, my shattered and traumatized guts disintegrating
into flocculant. My mind feels like a big block of putty or cheese, my physical
brain literally feels like some soft object that I could dent or mold or shape
or squeeze. It feels as though the psychedelic fury of the 4-HO-MiPT is
fighting with the overwhelming curtain of dissociative gumminess. Imagine a
tornado tearing through an ocean of gelatin. A blender full of play doh. A man
chest deep in quicksand wildly swinging two swords around. It is furious
violence being suppressed by a more subtle oppressive violence, they meet and
smother one another, two beasts locked in an eternal struggle, with me bearing
the collateral damage. It feels like my thoughts are coagulating like drops of
oil on the surface of a gently flowing stream might. They stick together and
blend into one another and render each other entirely meaningless. I am
disabled, my thoughts do not function, I cannot process anything, I feel like I
am short circuiting. The little bits of thought swirl together to form great
big foreboding stratus clouds that hang over me and cast me in gloomy shadow.
My mind has been deeply
unsettled, and I am not aware of how much space my body takes up. My sense of proprioception
has been entirely and mercilessly eliminated, and I find myself unable to do
basic tasks of any capacity. I am violently shaking and very very cold, I feel
like I am dying, that I have been poisoned and my muscles are wearing
themselves out in ritual suicide. It feels like there is a cold wind blowing on
me, sapping my heat, and I am unaware of most stimuli around me. I don’t even
notice I have music on. I feel like I have been tangled in vines, my body
restricted and eliminated in a tangled net of dense vegetation. This entire
trip is like dying vines wrapping around great gelatinous storm clouds on a gloomy
day, the vines strangling whatever light remains out of the clouds and casting
furious gales and twisting, swirling, churning winds onto the hapless ground
below.
T2:00- I have become a dying
spider, my black spindly twitchy appendages mangling out of the form and cavity
of my body, the limbs rasping and writhing on my bed, clutching the sheets for
some degree of mercy from this meteor shower of discomfort. This is pure raw
discomfort energy, I realize that I should savor this, understand it, let it be
scarred into my mind so that when I am sober I can be grateful that I am not
feeling it. My body is still shaking like the death throes of a dying insect.
My guts are still churning and twisting and polluting my thoughts. And it is
only building, only getting stronger.
One of my parents contacts me and
I begin to panic. This is probably the worst state possible for me to try and
interact with people who are extremely against my drug use. Even texting would
be a dead giveaway to my heavily impaired state. I am freaking out, if they
decide to call because I did not respond urgently enough, I am screwed, just
100% screwed. There is no way I could talk to them and sound sane or normal. I
think of an alibi and when I come upon a satisfactory one, I am washed with
waves of relief. But that soon gives way to yet more panic as the experience
grows stronger still. I am no longer seeing, the world around me is just blank
dead input, pure sensory information without any mental processing or
perception or interpretation. I am seeing with the eyes of a corpse.
I realize just how much time I am
going to have to spend with this substance, every second is excruciating, every
minute feels so long, and I am just going to have to sit here and wait this
out. I am just too impaired to engage in any activity other than lying on my
bed and writing about. My heart sinks and my body goes cold as I am stabbed
with anxiety. I have to just hope that my parents will not try to contact me
again for the next 3 or 4 hours. I am sitting in silence, and it sounds like
there is rushing steam or hot water somewhere around me. It’s a violent
virulent hiss that is like sandpaper on my mind and on my ears, it’s the sound
of my thoughts turning to vapor and fleeing as fast as they can from this
hideous infected mind. I still feel very sick, and attempt to vomit several
times, but to no avail. I am thinking so much about datura and at one point
have convinced myself that I accidentally ate some seeds, that I am going to be
nonfunctional for several days now, that I am entirely and mercilessly poisoned
and that there will be no respite from this. That I am now trapped in a raw
unfettered world of bone dry discomfort and stark withering anxiety, and that
this is my new normal, the withered paradigm of existence that I have trapped
myself in. I watch the clock and it’s distressing how little time has passed.
T3:30-I made it to 5:00 somehow.
Time feels like it’s passing so slowly, and the trip hasn’t let up at all.
Sometimes when tripping I can focus my mind to perform tasks that are extremely
necessary, but that is not the case here, I cannot do anything no matter how
hard I try, I am completely disabled. The dissociative hammers at my mind
relentlessly, it is a hurricane with no eye, it is a stampede that never ends,
it is crushing me to a pulp and ferociously eroding me.
I feel a massive sense of doom,
like this trip is final, it’s going to be the one that screws up the trajectory
of my life, ruins me in the eyes of my parents, lands me in prison or a psych
ward or rehab, who knows. It feels like an infinite chasm of negative
possibilities has yawned open beneath my feet. I am pacing, just awaiting my
fate in this grim empty room where it feels like even the air has died. I am
happy that I have made it a whole hour, that there isn’t too much left. I feel
like I need to be distracted, but still lack the capability to perform any task
that might distract me. Sometimes I can focus my mind and it seems as though
the energy of my thoughts can be harnessed into some tangible form in front of
me, but this is just hallucination and it soon disintegrates and falls away to
the mad erosion of the storm around me. This trip is green and grey and so
miserable. I regret every moment of this, I was having fun just on 4-HO-MiPT,
why did I have to throw anything else into the mix? Why did I desire to have
novel experiences that could turn out so miserable? Why not just live in
comfort and happiness at all times? Drugs are fucking stupid. I am just overwhelmed
with shame and regret, I feel like I have wasted a perfectly good day.
The sensory aspects of this trip
were oddly enough not very notable at all. The mental distress was extreme, but
the visuals appeared simply as everything in higher contrast, with no real
hallucinatory effects, or even patterns or colors. Just plain and grey and
sterile.
T5:30-I played Yume Nikki for the
past few hours, it’s a surreal eerie game that involves a lot of wandering.
This actually let me pass the time and was exceedingly pleasant as a way to
forget my anxieties. Before I knew it, I felt like I had climbed out of the
hole. I had fought my way out and I had thrown myself over the ledge, out of
breath, exhausted, worn to the vestiges of my bones. In am empty lot behind my
house people are projecting a movie on the wall of a house and the audio is on
super loud speakers that sound like they are directly in my room. This would’ve
freaked me the fuck out earlier, but now that I have come down a bit I feel a
bit of relief, and almost laugh at the absurdity of this situation and how
grateful I am for the fact that I can actually perceive and understand that.
Whew.
T6:00-I’m going to a show/party
to see one of my dearest friends play. I feel fucking awful though. I feel like
I am hollow, that my body cavity has been scraped out with an ice cream scoop
and I am just an empty vessel that the wind whistles through. I still feel so
very nauseous and it feels like I am going to throw up if I move too fast. My
limbs are still numb and out of place, feeling like they do when I first wake
up. My movements are slow and sluggish, it’s the feeling of recovering from a
savage stomach virus. Nonetheless I manage to throw on some clothes and head
over.
T6:30-Once I am outside I realize
how fucked up I still am. I can hardly walk straight, I must look drunk.
Everything around me seems so distant and all I can think about is how sick and
broken my body still feels. I still feel like there is some critical error in
my ability to process my surroundings, that there is still some bug in the
system that has not been worked out.
T7:00-I arrive and am immediately
overwhelmed. There are people standing around everywhere, it’s pretty crowded.
I know many of these people and trying to greet and interact with them quickly
becomes disorienting. I feel like I need to sit down or I’ll faint, I just feel
so weak and my body is in shambles.
T8:00-I am down enough to smoke
weed without stirring the dust too much and interact with people in a normal
manner. In fact I am having a good bit of fun interacting with people now, I
seem to have some of my mental capacity restored.
T12:00-I arrive home. I am mostly
down now, but there is still that raw eroding dissociative goopiness drying my
mind out, and a bit of that warm psychedelic afterglow. This persists until I
sleep, but is gone in the morning.
Conclusion: O-PCE will never
enter my bloodstream again.
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