MXE

(This one has been published by Erowid!!!!)

The first time I did MXE, I was so depressed, and it made me feel so ok. It made all my problems wash away, you could say that I dissociated from them… I was heartbroken as hell, but that suddenly became a passing feeling, an irrelevancy to the wide world of MXE. I was moving apartments, and my entire room was empty except for an air mattress and a lamp and a suitcase. It felt like a new start. Of course drugs never work that way for me. I was crushingly depressed pretty soon after I came down, but it was nice, it was really nice. I have been doing and raving about MXE for some time now. Unfortunately MXE went extinct, but here’s an artifact of its existence, a report on MXE alone (at last!)

Age:20

Weight: 120 lbs

Dosage: 50 mg Intranasal
Setting: My apartment

T0:00-Insufflated, slight sting

T0:10-Onset. Bitter drip comes in, not as bad at some things I’ve had. Chills run through me.

T0:30-My mouth becomes locked in a toothy grin. I feel the rushing euphoria of the coming trip. I’m chatting with people online, I slowly grow more incoherent, losing my associations with words, and it is slowly becoming harder to understand others. I feel cold and numb, with some nausea and burgeoning ataxia. The word feels like its floating away, its mooring lines snapping and tangling around my face. I feel uninhibited.

T0:40-The heavy dissociation breaks over and washes over me like a storm surge. My head feels like its turning into a form of stacked rectangular blocks. Words are beginning to lift and float off the screen. My hands typing feels automatic, like I have a word in my mind and my hands just act it out without me even noticing. It feels like I am being peeled out of my body and slowly rising. Time is moving more slowly and the world feels smaller. I then feel as though I’m made of interlocking triangles. My entire view of the world flattens and it feels like everything is in relief.

T0:50-My visual perspective, my literal point of view, has shifted. I feel like I am underwater, it is the same sort of weightlessness and slowed movement. I feel like I am being tossed around by undersea currents. The closed eye visuals are starting to become vivid-hundreds of eyes, large pink and blue arthropods that resemble spiders and centipedes, swirling waves of green and red. My sense of proprioception is gone, with my eyes closed I cannot even tell which hand is left or right. My head feels very heavy, and it feels like I have a tight hat or headband wrapped around my head. I begin to think about people with my eyes closed, I see the silhouettes of those who come into my mind, their colorful essences rising from their body like a smoky aura. Memory begins to become an absurd concept, it feels like I am feeling all of my thoughts and feelings at once, that they are laid out before me for me to sort through. New ones do not form sequentially but merely arise in this grand mess, memory in terms of some sort of chronology suddenly fades to nothing.

T1:00 (linear time kinda falls apart after this)- The world dissolves into pixels, I feel as though I am being pulled by strings like a marionette. I am almost entire anesthetized, the anesthesia feels like fingers gripping and wrapping around me, crawling onto and clutching my face. The closed eye visuals continue to become intense, one visual was a fractallized hand, with a hand on the end of each fingers, repeating into infinity. They vary between being concrete and abstract, another was a red and maroon rushing hyperspace tunnel, a big droopy web in the center of my field of vision. I can feel a bitter cold fire raging in my core. With my eyes open. Everything is shrouded in maroon and green auras. Objects warp and drift and bubble at their edges.

I close my eyes again and it definitely feels like I am in a hole. The MXE hole is characterized by shifting through all variety of places and experiences, it’s like on grand adventure in my head, it’s like inducing dream, with a numbing feeling to my body, a semilucid dream spawned from my aesthetic pleasures. My entire existence reduced to a six pointed star, It feels like my body has turned to putty and is being stretched and pulled and rolled in various ways. Or like I am a slick of oil on the surface of a rushing and warbling river. Or it feels like I am just stuck to the blade of a perpetually spinning fan. Or that I am on a train. One of the most common and pleasant is the feeling of being encased in a chamber, and them flying through outer space, it is this essence of flying, my body’s sense of balance and position adjusted accordingly. My entire frame of existence is being shaken and stirred. Almost all these feelings involve a sense of being weightless or underwater, and this persistent feeling of being sprayed in the face with a hose, but it’s a very warm and numbing stream. I also feel like I am buzzing and vibrating the entire time. At another point I find myself floating in a body of water, towering structures around me, made of interlocking green tendrils under a pulsing blue sun in a black sky. I think about friendship, and how wonderful friends are, and am filled with this glowing warmth and desire for overwhelming platonic relationships. Hm. I feel like I am being deposited like sediment in a turbulent river. It feels like I am being encased in a great warping metal. I have begun to tap into my dream memories, a recurring occurrence with dissociatives. The closed eye space has been primarily taken over by these green tendrils forming into fantastic creatures, sometimes to my will.

T2:45-I am starting to come down. Closed eyes no longer give me total dissociation or a hole feeling. I can feel the floodgates opening and my depression trickling back in. In my body, there is still this sense of sinking down and down. Everything sounds far away and indistinct and in that mess of noise I can hear jumbled and mumbled voices. The world feels like a pen drawing, value defined by crosshatching, and everything with an outline. While my closed eye visuals tone down, this was a really cool open eyed effect to have on the comedown. The Ataxia is still incredibly strong.

T3:30-I am coherent and functional again, but still very wobbly and out of it. I feel ashamed. This was a Monday night, I feel like I could’ve been doing something more productive, instead of tripping alone in my room on a bare impulse, or out of some compulsion to have an experience that I record. But who is to define what is productive? Nevertheless I still feel a great sense of shame.

T4:15-I interact with my roommate, talking is awkward, I feel like my tone and voice are coming off as alien, like some being trying to imitate human inflection.

T7:00-Mostly down by now. I go to bed.

Conclusion: MXE is one of my favorite substances. The hole experience on it is substantially more colorful than with other dissociatives, it feels like an adventure is unfolding before me, generated from my favorite thoughts and feelings. It is stimulating and slightly manic, and highly euphoric. I feel weightless, like I am floating underwater. RIP MXE, you will be missed.

Mind sailing

Here's another non-report post... an idea ive been toying with in my head that I found interesting n wanted to share, maybe you will too!

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With frequent usage of several different substances at several different ranges of doses ....

Each substance begins to take on its own character, develop its own 'canon' in a way, each one is the key to a different plane, each molecule contains its own world. My collection of substances greets me like a nexus, each one its own adorned gate to another dimension.

Psychonaut literally translates to "Mind-Sailor" and this is a journal of the places I have sailed.
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LSD
"Debasement"
I use the term debasement as de-basing existence, removing its base, violating, restructuring, and warping our experience at the very core. The universe of LSD is defined by a debasement of every fundamental law of our universe. It induces a maddening sense of discomfort, it is the most unnerving thing imaginable, to have the very foundations of my existence so shaken and altered makes every experience in that plane off kilter and highly disturbing. It's as richly alien as a scape could be, perpetually displaying a diversity of infringements on the laws of this world. The LSD universe begins to manifest as sounds breaking down, distorting, slowing, at last being rended apart and splattered across the aether. Time manifests in such arbitrary ways that it is rendered impotent. Vision ripples and tears and the rifts bubble with an incomprehensible amount of information stored in an incomprehensible way. It is resplendent with prismatic explosions of color and impossible harmonious patterns and forms in beautiful sequenced motion.
This plane is distinctly eerie, hauntingly familiar, and fundamentally at odds with every vibration and every shred of energy that we hold dear, it laden with fractals, it is the deepest plane.

DXM
"Nausea"
This world is wrought with the bodily afflictions that DXM carries. The horrible nausea, the fiendish shivering of limbs struck with zaps of serotonin... It leaks into the experience a constant reminder of how unnerving it is to perceive something so truly alien. The Dextromethorphan universe is driven by no cause, no reason, no predetermination or direction. It is arbitrary and wastefully surreal. Alien beings stumble around in processions in an existence they dare not to comprehend any deeper. Vast structures that seem to serve no purpose other than being a maddened display of constructive power loom menacingly. Everything is wreathed in static, everything shimmers liquid and metallic, the air is gelatinous and monolithic waves crawl and pulse across this unctuous world. It's the feeling of skin stretched over all of my senses, left only to perceive the starkness and bleakness of my flesh, the world only to perceive the starkness and bleakness of my faceless form. It is a sprawling taupe and mercurial bog, inhabited by cascading scribbles, coldly indifferent to the presence of anything.
This plane is putrefaction of reality, a vast grey quagmire that traps only the most disturbing thoughts, the feeling in your gut of storm clouds swirling in a sickly grey supercell.

MXE
"Sojourn"
Imagine if you could pick from your mind the essences of what you fundamentally consider beautiful, worthwhile, and aesthetic. Each of these is a seed, from which grows a spectacular garden, an oasis of the boundless diversity of ways in which these essences can manifest. This garden is constantly swept by gale force winds and hammering draperies of rain. The plants clings to you as they unravel your sense of corporeality. In this garden you can fly, drift wherever one desires. It is clean, efficient, and spectacularly colorful. The mess of vines within entangle and knot to materialize as every imaginable form and space. With practice one can dictate how these vines will grow. You have found asylum here, a world that seems to bend at your touch. Beware, for sometimes the storm grows wild, and the whipping winds may shred one between planes. This is as close to ominpotence as you will feel.
This plane is solipsistic, it unfurls before you like fronds, color breathed into wherever your senses drift, this plane is a verdant green garden, where the fruitful seeds of all planes blossom.

DPT
"Iridescence"
An opulent and opalescent dance unfurls before you. Fingers frosted with crystals gracefully peel back your eyelids, until at last you can see, you can really see. You can see all of this world in one glimpse. This world is a kaleidoscope of worlds, each of its possibilities a scale in an infinite integument, a lustrous stroke rippling through their array. And you can witness all of it. Blossoming sentinels tumble through you like waves washing over the deck of a ship. Everything in graceful order, everything laced with graceful color and graceful form. Even if one were to gaze at only a single scale in the shimmering vastness, they would still be acutely aware of this furthest reaches and burgeoning entirety. Upon each scale is a brilliant tangle of crystalline buttresses and dendrons, a fractal infinity encoded in their mysterious facets.  It is the color of the core of an opal, it is the cloak of Iris.
This plane is everything you want it to be, and everything you don't, and nothing anything wants regardless, and through its infinite windows one may gaze at infinite horizons.

Ketamine
"Stupor"
A thin grey veil is suspended from the gate of this world. To touch it is to be immediately sapped of warmth, the vibrational dance of every molecule in your body brought to a standstill. The body dissolves into the cold, but it is for the best, as bodies do not fare well here. This plane is defined by space. It is vast, more vast than the void between the nucleus and electron shell of an atom.  What appear to be faraway walls of this hollow are realized to be impossibly large and impossibly distant. What you can perceive of them is a mere surrogate of the true boundaries of this world. One can traverse this swirling emptiness on the ripples of its fabric, the ripples of the flapping of veined and chitinous wings. Does anything inhabit here? It's hard to say, you would likely never encounter each other in this great vacuity. Our existence is at odds between space and form, us inhabiting the world of form. In this world, one gets to play on the other side of the fence, existing as space. This world sinks into a deep violet, the color of a winter night on a new moon.
This plane is vast, it is as cold as the loneliest reaches of space and still as the darkness of the void, a cold that could suck the last morsels of warmth from dry ice. 

3-MeO-PCP
"Galvanism"
Imagine if every time you awoke you were in unfamiliar surroundings, always fundamentally similar but disorienting in their diversity. This is a puzzling and chaotic world. This is a world defined by instability, of a manic energy to manifest in as many forms as it's vast avarice desires, bound only by a vector akin to our sense of time. Bound to the point of frustration, bound to bursting. Energy leaks from every jagged mechanism of this world, however they decide to appear to you today. Sometimes, it toys with your memories and dreams. Sometimes it passes you down its thorny pharynx. Sometimes, it looks upon your sense of self, that ego which you sacrifice to delve into the other planes, and smiles upon it, encapsulates and gilds it in a dissociative warmth. Jagged monuments billow haphazardly in every direction, their copious teeth flitting about with no rhyme or reason. Segmented beings slither between the grinding heat. This world is bathed in a warm vermilion, the color of a dying star or a fading ember.
This plane is manic, fast and frenetic, nervously ticking away towards no perceivable end.

4-HO-MiPT
"Biota"
While "life" has a strict definition, its component of self-replication is emulated in the infinity of the cosmos (or vice versa). Truly life force is the recursion of producing oneself, of being aware of oneself and one's production of self. This world is a fractallized jungle of an existence that has duplicated itself, ad infinitum, its manifestations deviating boundlessly. It is diversity that stems from entropy, it is a dendrogram of lineages that leak out of an obsessive recursive loop. It is the wicked green wilds of form, it is tendrils and limbs and  the corporeal tangling and crawling, tracing and forming into whatever they may. It grows blindly and with reckless abandon, its creatures drip from every pore of its demented sinew, it is hysterical in its scope. This world is deeply and violently green, violent as the mechanical savagery of insects as they dismember and dismantle each other's exoskeletons. It is an ecosystem, each species a unique ripple in the fabric of existence. It is a primeval boscage, it is verdant brambles enshrouding your heart, all of its living energy dedicated to the simple task of proliferating into the abyss.
This plane is recursively self aware, it is the diversity that can only come through the brute force of statistical deviations, it itself is living, feeling, thinking, and processing.

2C-B
"Ornament"
This world has its fingers playfully and fondly entwined with the fingers of ours. It prefers to curl up in the home of whoever accesses it, rather than allow one to curl up within it. But it makes its stay worthwhile. To whichever world it may seep into, it adorns and embroiders their fabrics as vines adorn ruins in the forest. Its embellishments taste their matrix before deciding how to blossom and form, harmonizing with wherever it inhabits. It is friendly, gentle, and playful, it deigns to be no more than that and is profoundly content with such. Its forms love to dance a synaesthetic dance with the sensory experience of their host. It is dependent, and perhaps no one will know what it holds within itself. It does not fiercely protect its own nature, it merely never reveals a shred of it. This world paints its surroundings with vibrant magenta and chartreuse, it has a raw desire to garnish everything it touches. It's patterns are foliate and intricate, organic yet bearing the deliberate beauty of an artist's touch.
This plane is harmonious, it is symbiotic with where ever it chooses to tread, it caresses your face and seeps into everything.

O-PCE
"Stasis"
Immediately upon entry to this world one finds themself rendered entirely immobile. The distance glows rings of concentric grey, sterile and cold like laboratory glass. The medium around you buzzes with crystal clarity, zaps your skin with tingles of anesthesia, but most importantly, paralyzes your muscles and pries your eyes wide open. Nothing happens here, and that will continue, indefinitely. A consciousness in this realm is like an insect trapped in amber, confined to its own personal bubble of its own personal present. This is a pure dissociation, dissociation from the flow of time as you sit locked in that bubble for fear of decaying in the mechanistic abrading stillness as it chews apart all things like a swarm of ants. One could stay here forever, but none do, and no one can quite recall how they left, most are simply too busy marveling at their ability to move and feel again. Whether it knows it or not, this realm violently enforces its status quo.
This plane is dull and neutral, unrelenting and everlasting, the air does not breathe and even the skittering processions of time are brought to heel to stoically gaze at an eternal pallor.

Memantine
"Desolation"
You are alone now. There is a distinct chill that grips your bones with a desperate and fearful fervor, an iciness that cannot be shaken. Indeed you find yourself in a seemingly infinite taiga, scraggly pillars of conifer trees sleeping quietly in the twilight, their forms obscured by draperies of snow. The ground is blanketed by pure, sweet, undisturbed virgin snowdrifts. It flurries down gently, shimmering flakes in an infinite dance of static against the darkness, yet it never seems to get any deeper. You have never felt quite so alone- in the night sky above a miraculous golden aurora pulses and dances with the orderly vitality that would suggest life, an architect, a presence of any kind, you scream into its void and it says nothing back. Whoever is responsible for this realm has not been here for quite some time, if anyone at all. It is something beyond life and death, beyond the binaries of being and nonbeing, it is each of those, both of those, and none of those, all at once, it is alienating and isolating and you will never understand what exists here well enough to feel any presence besides your own warmth against the infinite cold.
This plane is the death throes of being lost in the woods on a snowy night, stumbling further into the eternal solitude in the frigid gizzard of winter, the world around you so instinctively indifferent.

3-MeO-PCE
"Empyrean"
Travels across so many realms have worn your mind thin, shredded its sails with shrieking squalls amidst tyrant swells. You hear talk of a sacred and promised land, where the warmth of light traces gently every inch of the landscape's flesh, where the waters are still and mirror-like, where resplendent colors embrace and entwine in an everlasting diaphanous dance. Deep beneath the polychrome rivers in the sky, sunken under the towering glowing pyramids sewn from the threads of your buzzing electric desires, there it lies. The aether coalesced into a crimson chaos, eagerly waiting, drooling at the thought of a mind that has come to bend it into order, a mind to create from it what it wills, a God. This is the treasure you have been seeking, the glory of creation.
This plane is the ecstasy of discovery, the fire of life begging for your touch, curling around your fingers and being unbound by the imagination.


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The looming shadow of the unknown stalks the interstice between planes

This raises some questions. To pass between planes, they must all exist encompassed within something larger, something that can not be referred to as existence, something that encapsulates even more than that. It is entirety. Why is my default existence in this world, what significance does it have compared to the others?
And what of combining them? What a truly unique entirety in which the planes can be made to swirl together, the characters of each displaying within. There have been a few very coherent mixes of planes, and as far as I know an infinite variety of ways in which to intersect and interlope them. Who knows what this forced interaction may uncover and incur.

A traveler must beware, to fully pass between planes and not become tangled in their interstice. For the the rules of those worlds begin to leak into this one, your behavior and mind now governed by alien thoughts and alien feelings, incompatible with our normal comprehension of existence. It is when this happens that real life consequences are incurred... These seem not to statically endure as planes, but simply form as ephemeral facsimile projections of the reaction between multiple fundamental forces.

A constant stretches across all realms.
Knowing and unknowing ~ in the many planes, one does not have a sense of self, or a sense of thought and consciousness. Ever morsel of the experience is simply the interaction between the material world and some form of processing, a metaphorical machine that touches the unknowing and colors it into the knowing. Thus, the feeling of the unknown still exists across all planes, none I have touched seem to contain omniscience. Thus, the fear of the unknown still stalks every plane. Perhaps this unknown isn't simply a natural law, but something induced and enforced and weaponized by some antagonist... perhaps somewhere exists even beyond knowing and unknowing... but regardless, this antagonist... I feel an eerie paranoia as I stalk through the planes, like something is watching me, stalking me, puppeteering me and lurking in the shadows. Like some agent is working behind the scenes to manufacture some sort of experience... I feel like I am delving into forbidden knowledge, that in my blind stumbling in the other worlds I will stumble upon something that does not want to be stumbled upon, that something that plays the game of predestination is moving all the pieces around... but to what end? Why give me access to the means of potentially uncovering it? Is this the sick sport of an incomprehensible mind? A delusion meant to keep me under some form of control? Or the shearing winds of a maelstrom of chaos? Only the intrepid will learn.

Why why why?

CW: Suicide, depression, addiction/hard drugs

*I wrote this when I was just 20 and severely depressed, please excuse the language. Idk how much it applies anymore, I'm too busy to go back and assess this for now. There's nothing wrong with getting high, its stupid to try and justify it. Altering your mind is a human right, if you don't believe that you should fuck right off*

This is going to be a very personal post about my self absorbed self
Seriously this is some serious self indulgence honestly don't read it if I haven't linked this post specifically its kinda embarassing. or you can idk im not yr mom
This is more or less me trying to justify my use of hallucinogens
if you're just here to read about trip reports then ignore this, but dang i need to articulate this
First chunk is some general nerd shit, second chunk is about ~me~ haha

*By no means do I intend to invalidate the experiences and emotions of those who have suffered from drugs or had loved ones suffer from drugs... If you are against them overall that is understandable, I'm not trying to convince you to change your views, I'm more putting out a perspective towards them that I feel really pedantic about, also to provide context to my stupid self indulgent writng

Something that's been weighing on my mind a lot is stigma towards drug use... This is a very sensitive area as certain substances have caused very tangible harm to the friends of friends, and certain drugs do certainly and undeniably cause immense harm to people throughout the world.
I guess my first gripe is semantics, the term "drug" (psychoactive drugs) is vast. The immediate reflexive association most have, whether it be conditioning or experience is "drug=get high, get hurt". My issue with the semantics of this is that "drug" is an umbrella term that covers such a vast vast range of substances and effects, You've got opiates, cannabinoids, benzodiazepines, psychedelics, deliriants, dissociatives, stimulants, and many more/ all sorts of ones that straddle those categories.
An analogy you can make is to biological classification. The term "drug" would be akin to the kingdom level of taxonomy. You could look at a lion and say "that's an animal" which would be true, it belongs to the kingdom animalia. You could look at a tab of acid and say "that's a drug". But what happens if you don't have the subject right there for you to refer to? In abstract speech, telling someone you saw an animal is absurdly vague. Telling someone you did a drug is absurdly vague. I think a part of loosening stigma towards people who use certain substances is dividing this taxonomy into more specifics, so one can acknowledge the vast gaps between substances with respect to effects and harm to the psyche and body.  The paradigm of "drug" being some monolithic evil entity should be dispelled in favor of a more nuanced view that acknowledges the variety and benefits/detriments of a range of substances with a range of effects. This is not to say that some drugs are just entirely beneficial compared to others. Each has their roster of positive and negative effects, all of them have some negative effects, but the diversity and danger lies in the ratio of positive to negative effects and the severity of those negative effects. No drug comes without its catch. (btw I'm not saying certain substances deserve stigma and others don't, if someone is struggling with addiction don't stigmatize them, that is such an unbelievable dick move, show them love and compassion, be stern when you need to, but at the very least be there for them. I honestly haven't dealt too much with this myself though, there are better resources for helping loved ones struggling with addiction)
At the very least pare it down to the aforementioned categories of effects mentioned before, though honestly you might end up sounding wordy and pretentious. Or don't, this isn't imperative, but I'm going to try that.
The big problem is that conditioned association, (drug=get high get hurt). The word itself carries stigma, and that trickles down into everything it encompasses. I do not condone drug use, I do not recommend drug use, but I aim to be a resource for those who have made the decision for themselves. There are so many things psychoactive substances can do, so many directions you can take it, some can be extremely beneficial, others extremely detrimental. The detrimental side is what gets promoted (and honestly rightfully so, opiates, benzos, stimulants etc can do some really fucked up shit to people), but the more benign or helpful substances get lumped in with those and become guilty by association.
So on to psychedelics...
Another facet of the stigma is the idea that any mind altering substance is getting high, that it is a form of escapism and shirking the responsibilities of the real world. Some drugs have broken heavily into the mainstream (cannabis, alcohol), but in terms of their psychoactive effects, they are largely seen (in western society) as a means of hedonism, recreation, indulgence, and "getting high".
So then you have things like psychedelics getting lumped in with that, psychedelics to the layman are viewed as an extreme and daunting version of all the aforementioned indulgence. And maybe for some people, they are.
From here on out, I will be gloating as pretentiously as possible about my brand of drug use. First I must say, everything I'm saying is very very case specific to me, psychedelics can indeed have long term negative effects on people, whether it be traumatic experiences or uncomfortable revelations. I will not deny that they can be devastating for some people. It's extremely subjective, do not use anything I am writing to justify drug use of any sort. I am just writing this for my sake, this is about me, I needed to get this off my chest. I still do not condone using them, if you choose to take them please be careful please be responsible, some very real and bad things can happen.

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I guess it would be good to start with the big question. Why why why why why?  Well, imagination is extremely important to me and it always has been. Fantasies occupy most of my time and most of my mind. How this melded with the subconscious always fascinated me, how things could be perceived as an essence, and how these things would be stored in my mind as these perceived essences. Dreams and hypnagogic hallucinations fueled my curiosity towards the places a mind could go, the infinite freedom beyond this earth that the mind contained.
I first did acid when I was 16, it was pretty cool, but altered states still fascinated me. It was a mushroom trip (my first report) at 17 that really hooked me. I didn't know it was possible for a mind to do that, the boundaries of my existence were suddenly stretched infinitely far, and I was eager to be at the frontier of that.
Heavy use of hallucinogens began freshman year of college, and since them I've more or less tripped 4-8 times a month every single month (for the last 2 and a half years). At that time, I was wicked depressed, I was exploring my mind with the added benefit of perceived self destruction. It was cool. Use slowed down over time though, until a breakup that I didn't handle well at all. That is when it began in earnest. I began using again to destroy myself, as a desperate bid to traverse another world and abandon the sinking ship of mine.
It was an intervention from my parents that made me realize- This is a nuanced and fascinating area of study, bottomless in depth, with infinite unexplored frontiers. If I wanted to continue this, I should do it legitimately and contribute. I began amassing rare chemicals, I got myself a milligram scale to weigh out safe doses, I kept meticulous notes and journals and wrote a bunch of trip reports. I usually approach use ritualistically and in a controlled setting to perceive purely the effects of the hallucinogen. This is the way I am continuing now. I act with these goals in mind:

-Exploring the frontiers and depths of consciousness and subconscious, seeing how different substances, combinations, settings, and meditations can affect my perceptions of reality.
-Exploring and comparing the effects of different substances and forming some extremely rudimentary empirical idea of the relations between molecular structure and effects
-Cataloging the effects of substances so that I may help others with their explorations from a place of personal experience
-Shifting into an out-of-body paradigm where I am omnipotent, where I can create at my will and have my thoughts manifest materially before me, like a virtual reality sandbox game.
-Digging through the annals of my subconscious and potentially uncovering some sort of insight or otherwise taking advantage of the significantly induced introspective element
-Transcending my humanity
-Artistic inspiration (see this and this and honestly any picture I've made from 2013-onwards)
-Contacting 'entities'

Time to gripe about a particularly narcissistic delusion, a mild form of a persecution complex. That my use of hallucinogens has tainted and invalidated me in the eyes of others, that I am being lumped in with and associated with the harder and more consistently harmful drugs. This haunts me constantly, I feel like a disappointment and a failure to all of my peers, one who cannot live a sober life, I feel as though I am perceived as desperately escapist, fiendishly chasing my next high.
A definition of addiction is that one is addicted when drugs impede with their lives and are prioritized over other things. I have flaked on friends to trip (and lied to them about it), I have shirked scholarly and other responsibilities, indeed a great deal of my time and energy is dedicated to obtaining and experiencing hallucinogens. These are iffy behaviors, but I guess I can hazard a guess at one discrepancy. With other drugs, this is an uncontrollable compulsion chasing a very chemical high, a mind stricken with addiction craves and pursues relentlessly. I feel like I am in control here. I do not feel a compulsion to do this, I do not even feel 'high' from most hallucinogens, most make me feel sick and uncomfortable but they are fascinating experiences nonetheless. This is a cognitive motivation, not a chemical one. Like if I gave up all my time, ditched my friends and shirked responsibility to pursue entomology more passionately, no one would think twice about it, its a passion, its an interest and a hobby. One could say that one is more harmful than the other but like, I take almost every precaution I can to reduce every avenue of potential harm, and almost any hobby carries its risks (even mineral collecting, it can get bad when you find yourself inadvertently or unknowingly handling deathly toxic or radioactive minerals with your bare hands). But in all these pursuits, the risks arise from ignorance, and not to sound pretentious but I aim to strike away all ignorance about drug use, at least within myself, ideally within others. Education is key!
Another facet of addiction is drug use directly corresponding with negative mental states. This is something I admittedly struggle with, but I have been fighting it. Psychedelics are purely exploratory. Dissociatives however have been used as a means of self harm and catharsis in times of mental crisis. This is an area where I have faltered against my fundamental beliefs towards substance use. I am actively working to not do that anymore.
The other thing that stalks the nexus through which I travel is the element of the unknown. There is such powerful subjectivity, so many directions an experience can go, so many things that could potentially go wrong. There is merit in this argument, and I have had some truly nightmarish experiences. However I make the analogy that the unknown similarly stalks all varieties of certain recreational activities and hobbies, that interestingly enough do not carry stigma for their potential harm. Some are intensely more dangerous than psychonautics. I cannot find any consolidated statistics on deaths from hallucinogens. Overdoses have occurred in only a few substances, while other deaths have come from behavior while under the influence. In terms of overdose, I test or have vouched for all chemicals I receive to confirm their identity. Doses are weighed out on a milligram scale, and I have been finally titrating doses as of late (start low, work your way up, instead of diving right in). Combinations are heavily researched, especially in terms of pharmacological interactions in metabolism and in receptor activity. I do not go into experiences blindly. I hate to sound like I'm bragging, but I want to be reassuring. As for behavior well... there has been one out of 130 trips where I felt like my behavior might have put me in danger. That's a pretty good track record isn't it? That was long ago, and a valuable learning experience. Idk, this sounds douchey but I almost feel like I have a talent to resiliently take hallucinogens and generally remain under control of my mind, or at the very least remain safe in terms of setting and behavior. I have a series of meditations, mantras, physical reminders/anchors, and mental exercises meant to get me out of the psychological pitfalls that may arise.
What about long term effects? Well first of all I really don't plan on/cannot picture surviving very long but that's a story for another day. There is indeed a great element of unknown here, we have very few case studies (Shulgin lived to 88 and kept his mental fortitude till the peaceful end). This is a frontier I can reassure no one on, besides pointing to pharmacological data on close analogues to these substances. But like, realistically how many people are going to be interacting with me in 20, 30 years? It's a problem for the future, and should it strike me, it is what I deserve, it is the consequence of my actions.

Regardless,
I apologize profusely to those who I have hurt or disappointed with my usage of all drugs. It is what I enjoy, it is what I find fascinating. But those are not things I should be prioritizing over the feelings and insistence of others. I am sorry to those I have concerned with my use, I am eternally grateful that you show me concern. My ability to do this is one of the only things in which I have confidence in my competence. I am deeply sorry though. I hope this was able to seed a little more understanding towards my habits, but it is perfectly understandable if it is still disdainful and offputting to you. I just needed to vent.

2C-E

Age:20

Weight: 120 lbs

Dosage: 22 mg oral in gel cap

Setting: my apartment

T0:00-Dosed

T0:30-Begin to feel onset, feel a lot of chills and starting to shake a lot.

T1:10-Visual effects begin to pick up. Angled concentric polyhedral begin to dominate my vision, taking on deep forest green and teal colors. The visuals are very synthetic and technical seeming, in that they in no way resemble the commonly held idea of “organic” forms, there is no blossoming or harmony but a cacophonous array of angles that seem to have been shaped by some sentience. The visuals are burgeoning and growing more intense at a noticeable rate. Very marked nausea has picked up at this point too.

T1:30-I feel very very sick. I am leaning over a trashcan. I feel on the verge of throwing up and honestly my stomach just hurts. It feels like everything is twisting, like reality has been turned into a big metallic ribbon that is being turned and twisted. This twisting runs through my bones and to my very core, it feels like my innards are twisting into this infernal nausea that pervades my veins. It is such an odd metallic sort of sickness.

T1:40-The headspace honestly feels like a tryptamine, thoughts are growing and blossoming organically with everything seeming so matter of fact, so zen, so natural. It is not the sort of speediness or synthetic weirdness of other phenethylamines that makes the world seem so alien, it is wonderful and harmonious. The visuals are synthetic in character but organic in nature, if that makes any sense. They are synthetic geometries that are behaving in an organic fashion in terms of how they flow, grow, and interact. It is beautiful and graceful, I lie on my bed and feel like a big beautiful graceful bird soaring above the landscape. If only I didn’t feel so sick.

T2:00-I throw up a bunch. I still feel sick afterwards. This is a bit frustrating, I was hoping purging would make it all feel better. I am clearheaded enough to do things, but also very very altered. I couldn’t interact with people, but like, I’m lucid enough to use a computer and maybe talk to people if I really really needed to. It is a really pleasant and beautiful and harmonious headspace, I just wish I didn’t feel so sick.

T2:20-The trip feels like it is somehow torn between two dualities, or has turned the world into a pole between two dualities. Not in the sense that I am seeing everything in terms of black and white, but in that our entire world exists as a duality to another entire existence. Maybe that would be a very lofty and superlative way to refer to it. It feels like I am being vibrated between two poles, that the fibers of my being consist of duality, or that there are two polar beings who are judging me and guiding me, and my existence is an amalgamation of these dualities, a fundamental and absurd dissonance.

T2:30-This is beginning to get more intense. I am having trouble with my short term memory, a sure sign that I am tripping absurdly hard. It’s a good thing I am alone. The bodyload is immense, I can feel the discomfort in my bones I can feel the discomfort as electricity through my muscles. Time dilation becomes very distinct. I wish the nausea would pass but time is just passing so slowly that it seems like I’ll be stuck with this for a while.

T2:35-It feels like an hour has passed. Whalp. I feel so primal, it feels like I’ve been pared down to my flesh and blood and bones. All these possessions around me are nothing, I am not any of the things I own or the image I project, I am only this body. I feel so isolated from everything and anyone, I feel so independent and it is liberating to a degree but also somewhat unsettling. I feel so alone against such an immense world, without my identity or possessions to back me up. The bodyload feels like a big gross spear has been impaled through me axially.

T4:00-I’ve just been dicking around on the computer for the last hour and a half. Truly I am the deepest psychonaut. I ended up down some absurd rabbit hole of internet pages. I notice this happens with being stoned or being on psychedelics. I suddenly take immense interest in every little bit of everything I read online and it draws off into an endless tangent of intense focus. I get into reading about a person exploring some mysterious abandoned underground facility. There is a whole thread towards determining what it is. It turns out the big complicated thing was just a mundane old pumping station. It is a huge place and its absurd to think about how much went into building it, only for it to end up abandoned in the isolated French countryside. But in reading the thread there’s a whole lot of discussion about the dangers of exploring underground confined spaces, coming from people all over the various industries that deal with that. The place was apparently extremely dangerous, and there is immense danger in toxic gas build ups in those sort of spaces. People were sharing stories about people who died in septic tanks and sewers and maintenance tunnels its some really unnerving shit. I get caught up in what a painless but crushing death that must be. Accidental death weighs on my mind a lot while tripping, though usually in immensely gory and painful fashion. It is sort of comforting to imagine such a “soft” and painless seeming way out like being overcome by a massively dense and instantly lethal dose of toxic gas.

T6:00-Mostly down. Slight visuals and a bit of spaciness, I feel more articulate and socially capable. Still nauseous and in pain until I wake up the next morning though.

Conclusion:

It seems I have the misfortune of adverse reactions to 2C-E, what has been tauted as a spectacular substance by many. The headspace was unique and enjoyable, as was the visual aspect, I feel like there’s a lot of directions to take this substance, but unforuntaely my explorations seem to be hampered by the feeling of being acutely poisoned.