4-PrO-DMT

Age: 24

Weight: 135 lbs

Dosage: 25 mg oral in gel cap

Setting: Around the city, my apartment

I had to pick up an online order for someone at the grand Macy’s department store right in the heart of the city. I figured I would dose, run my errand, and then walk around the city as I came up. I went to a nearby 7/11, got myself a drink, dosed outside the Macy’s and began the timer.

T0:00- Dose taken. I walk across the street and find the counter for picking up orders. Thankfully I am not feeling any effects yet. Unfortunately I find out the order is not yet ready and I will have to come back later in the day. Oh well. I decide to keep walking around the store because it’s warm inside and so very cold and windy outside.

T0:08- I start coming up, the first notes are felt as pangs of nausea and feeling ever so slightly lightheaded and off balance. An anxious stimulation and tension begins to build in my muscles. I decide to go hide in the bathroom for a bit.

T0:15- The world is rising around me in faint tessellated colors- for now, fairly subtle but still wanting to make themselves known. The nausea builds along with a sweaty stimmy discomfort. There is a general sense of unease relative to the world around me and I am anxiously hiding in a bathroom stall plotting my next move as it builds and builds. I think I am just going to rush out of the store and walk home, I imagine I will not be in any state to ride public transportation.

T0:20- I break out and start walking through the store. Standing up and walking catches me very off guard- my balance and equilibrium are highly distorted. I am surprised I didn’t stumble and fall. I feel so light and floaty, almost like it’s a dissociative. Despite this my chest and muscles all feel tense and tight. A psychedelic fog envelops the world, bending around me like a gravity well, its residual energy pulsing through my body and overtaking me. I float and flit through a fluid world bathed in intricate interlocking patterns of warm colors, trying to avoid the glances of strangers and hoping loss prevention doesn’t notice how anxious I look. I am sweating profusely but the doors are in sight. I burst out into the city like a bullet exploding from the barrel of a gun, into the shock of the cold grey windy November air, biting and dense with the odor of the city.

T0:30- The walk home felt like rushing through a billowing cascade of falling leaves, each leaf flashing with concentric neon colors. It was a sense of a busy world swirling around me, bouncing on frantic gusts of wind that battered off my warm glowing core. There is a low rumbling sound burgeoning in the back of my head as I march onwards, and the ambient sounds of the city around me ripple and bubble in my skull.  I slip in and out of crowds of people and waited patiently for traffic, praying no one would look too closely at me, see how sweaty I was, see my wild eyes, see my teetering off balance, sense my pounding heart. I wasn’t particularly anxious but there was a sense of urgency to return to the safety of my home and panic as the experience grew more and more within me. In motion the trip felt suppressed by my physical activity and sense of objective- however every time I stopped, it felt like it descended on me, crashing over me like a flash flood I had been slowly outrunning. Each time I stopped it came back stronger and stronger, and by the time I had arrived at home it had all but swallowed me into its twisting tessellated gullet. I had been overcome with its power and I was so glad to be somewhere warm and safe and familiar.

T0:50- As I walk up the stairs to my bedroom, the most notable effect becomes prominent- a sort of personification of all of the sounds around me- it is as if my brain is recognizing every bit of auditory stimulus as a sentient being. There is a sense of presence that people often carry, a chimera of their other senses that synthesizes into the idea of detecting another sentient being in their proximity. It feels as if my circuits have been scrambled and my sense of presence is being distinctly activated by my sense of sound. Each footstep is fluttery, jovial, laughing. The sound of my jacket rustling as I take it off is shifty and brooding, perched above me, gently watching. My sound of my backpack zipper is stretching and yawning and reclining in the aether. There is no other sensory detection of these sonic phantoms, just this distinct sense of presence and sentience. It is extremely weird.

Aside from that, this trip is extremely active and energetic- I feel like I am radiating heat and energy, and there is noticeable hyperthermia. Despite it being a cold day, I am content to sit in my room in just a t shirt. I want to curl into a ball and think and think and just emit fractal heat into the world around me, but I also want to zoom around my space as quickly as possible, bouncing off of the walls and vibrating the air to shreds. I am thinking about dogs a lot, about how their excitement and energy matches mine right now. I feel like a wild animal, frantic and high strung.

The visuals are kaleidoscopic, buzzing, stepped and zigzagged. They are dominated by warm colors and adorned with pulsing concentric patterns in stark contrasting colors. They too radiate heat and energy, baking and glowing like the coils of an electric stove. Every part of my existence is cooking with a splendid energy right now.

The trip itself feels active and alive and sentient- a trickster spirit lording over me, shocking me, glowering and grinning, it dances around me, casting me with ribbons of light and vibrating my hot hot bones to their core. There is just so much going on at once, it is not exactly overwhelming but is fairly mentally exhausting. But I still have the energy to enjoy it for now. I keep getting pangs of familiar feelings, hearkening back to my first ever experience with mushrooms, an overwhelmingly powerful trip that set the standard for the rest of my explorations. That was a terrifying and jarring experience by all measures and these little nostalgic flutters carry that same sense of anxiety.

The nausea is fairly standard for a tryptamine, though I find myself on the brink of throwing up several times. It is punctuated against a mild nauseous background. I almost threw up on the street several times walking home, but I can suppress it.

T1:00- I smoke some weed to try and soften the nauseous anxious edge. The visuals flare up and increase their velocity, and the steady burn of this trip crackles and flares. There is just so much going on that I really don’t feel like taking notes or stopping to think about it or type about it. So many visuals to see, so many strange sound-people to interpret, so much excitement, my mind is moving so fast! I feel like if I don’t fully immerse myself I am going to miss something interesting. I close my eyes and bake in the rays of the experience, I am greeted by a field of pulsing golden diamond fractals, rippling outwards into an oblivion, both infinite yet entirely encompassed by my nervous, darting vision.

The auditory-sentience effect is still extremely weird and I cannot even listen to music by virtue of it because it’s so uncomfortable. It feels fundamentally wrong. It is the same sense of phantom presences that other very high doses of psychedelics or deliriants have brought about in me, which is odd because otherwise I wouldn’t say I’m tripping extremely hard. These phantasms are very ephemeral, they don’t exist long enough to develop personalities or anything. They don’t necessarily feel alien either, but rather oddly familiar. It feels like an amalgamate glitch in my mental machinery, like assets from other aspects of my senses and mental processing have spawned in the wrong places.

T1:30- Everything has become extremely funny for me. This is an effect that usually occurs on the comeup of certain psychedelics, but it seems to be burning strong on the peak. Perhaps it has been here all along and simply made itself known as the anxiety slowly recedes. Nevertheless, I am cracking up at internet memes, I feel like I’m seeing so many layers into them (both visually and metaphorically). I am laughing uncontrollably at silly weird twitter tweets and at my own content, laughing until tears stroll down my face. I must look like I’m having a fit of hysterical madness. I cannot pry the smile off my face that impales into my cheeks making them sore. I don’t know if the experience is necessarily euphoric, it’s more that I am being barraged with beams of mad, unrestrained ecstasy, vibrating me into a tessellation upon impact. I am finding myself clinging to my space heater now as the hyperthermia has steadily slinked into the afternoon. I am curled up before it like a cat, laughing at my own thoughts as they wisp out into the rising warm air of the heater. I am content to languish here, big dumb smile on my face, nuzzling like an animal in its nest, under the watchful but tiring gaze of a million golden eyes locked in a warm incandescent fog. The same kaleidoscopic diamonds continue to radiate concentrically from me like pixelated ripples on the surface a metallic iridescent pond. I’m having so much fun doing absolutely nothing.

T2:00- The sonic phantoms have faded away by now and I can feel the trip cooling off. I bask in the glow of my space heater as the inherent heat and energy of the experience recedes further. I hang out with my big Millipede, Shoes, and let him run around all over me and all over my bed. I have such a big dumb goofy smile on my face, I am happy thinking about him and the little world he lives in.

An empathogenic edge begins to bake into the trip, I just want to snuggle up in my soft covers with all of my sweet pets around me and think nice thoughts about pleasurable things. I feel glistening and glittery like I am riding a warm gust of wind carrying a million little flakes of mica or maybe iridescent butterfly scales. I am so happy thinking about my little critters, I am happy thinking about my friends and people I want to be around. All of this riding the coattails of still fairly intense visuals and a persistent off-kilter dissociation.

There is also this pervasive sense of this asymptotic approach to a maximized state of goodness and comfort- I just feel like I can always feel more comfortable, I can always feel better, and its hard to settle with what I have now, despite it being absolutely ecstatic. It eludes me like a neon dragonfly darting away from a net.

T2:30- I fold laundry and watch Cowboy Bebop and smoke some more weed. I descend from the trip through a hall of crystals, their adamantine fire catching the late afternoon light and bathing me in a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors. But even this latent energy still pales in comparison to the overclocked maelstrom of the trip that preceded it. It is spectacular but relatively gentle and tranquil. I feel so pleasant, like I am in the right place at the right time doing the right thing.

T4:00- Things wind down further. Feeling burnt out like the last wisps of steam are rising from me. My brain feels like red hot metal cooling back to black. A headache sets in. I play videogames.

T6:00- Smoke more weed to see if it stirs things up more. It seems not to.

T7:00- I am almost completely down and am just stoned now. I go back to Macy’s to pick up what I meant to before, it is warm and dazzling but it’s usually like that.

Conclusion: There is chatter about 4-PrO-DMT being a prodrug to 4-HO-DMT, similar to what is conjectured about 4-AcO-DMT. I will say this one experience differed a fair bit from most of my experiences with 4-HO-DMT or 4-AcO-DMT. (Though to be fair it has been several years since I’ve taken either). Most notable differences were its short duration, the degree of stimulation and hyperthermia, the jagged and angular high velocity visuals dominated by warm colors and bright contrasts, the empathogenic edge to it on the comedown, and particularly, the very strange audio-personification effect, the “Sonic Phantoms”. I hypothesize that whatever part of my brain typically recognized and registered human interaction and presence had gained some sort of associative pathway with my auditory senses. However, some sort of ancestral vestigial relationship to my experiences with mushrooms was felt- there was a powerful sense of clear nostalgia and déjà vu and simulation of sensations and thoughts and flashes from my most powerful mushroom experiences. It definitely felt related in some way. All that aside it is a warm and odd little psychedelic that delivers a fast and furious trip that dazzles the senses.

4-AcO-EPT

Age: 24

Weight: 135 lbs

Dosage: 50 mg oral in gel cap

Setting: My apartment

T0:00- Dose Taken

T0:30- Begin to feel shaky and nauseous, typical psychedelic comeup. No other effects to note yet.

T0:40- Feeling physically sicker, with barely noticeable visuals as waves at the corner of my vision and muscle tension starting to build. I can feel my heart racing.

T0:45- I smoke some weed, the visuals start to creep out, but reluctantly so. They only manifest upon scrutiny and can be easily dismissed. The trip feels like it’s slowly seeping out like water under a door, shocking me with a stimulating energy upon contact. It feels very stimmy.

T0:50- Closed eye visuals flutter and flash in regular and harmonic patterns but are still fairly indistinct.

T1:00- The visuals begin to appear as pastel colored blocks and forms creeping into the edges of my field of vision. They are decorative and unobtrusive. The headspace has me falling into loops of daydreams and fantasies. The entire trip feels relaxed, loopy, and dreamy, with a crackling stimmy undercurrent, a dense fog hanging over a volcano. I watch videos of people fighting on the internet and become really hyped up, I want to fight people and punch things. I dance around my room shadowboxing and doing pushups for a bit.

T1:21- The visuals are tinged with blue flashing in and out of existence, swirly and lazy like they’re caught in a little eddy on a wide river in the summer. They are bathed in sunlight, a morning haze catching the golden rays of a sunrise. Despite the overall relaxed sense of the hallucinatory experience, I am so hyped up. I want to exercise, I want to turn my body into a weapon, I want to light off and fire into the sky like a rocket and rain down hell on all who I deem deserve it. I wish I had a punching bag. I want to be ultimate power, I want to shatter the world with the force of my will, I want my body to carry an impossible quantity of sheer energy. It feels fucking great. I am lifting weights and doing pushups and crunches and getting hyped on doing it, it all feels fucking cool. Not even like the sentimental loveliness of empathogens, but what feels like a genuine deep appreciation for what I’m doing and the aspects of life that appeal to me.

T1:52- It’s a short experience, I already feel like I’m coming down. I have spent the last half hour cooling down and playing with my pet bugs. I have a big millipede who I let crawl all over me and my face. His name is Shoes and his feet tickled so much as they crept all over me. I was driven to observe him as closely as possible, until I could see the little ‘combs’ of bristles on his feet that made him so sticky and tickly. I also hang out with one of my ox beetles, a type of Rhinoceros beetle, he was crawling with tiny mites that were just hitching a ride on him. So much life crawling all over me, so friendly and warm but also so alien. He clumsily bumbles around, his big strong tarsi clinging to me for dear life. I feel warm and fulfilled just interacting with them and observing them. 

T2:09- I am feeling giddy thinking about my bugs and all of the things they interact it and their rich full lives just doing what they have evolved to do. They experience the world so differently and are so accomplished at every aspect of their lives. Just lovely incredible creatures. This trip is definitely characterized by enthusiasm. I take a hit from my gravity bong, hoping to stir things up again. This ends up triggering the strangest effect-

It’s like the air has just been sucked out of the room. Everything suddenly looks clearer, like that languid pastel fog has been swept away. The visual are almost impossible to notice unless I’m looking at a particularly mottled surface. I feel calmer and more level headed, my thoughts flow normally, I lack that psychedelic hyper awareness. It seems I just blasted myself into sobriety. It feels so eerily still, especially with how much energy the experience was still giving off as it gradually smoldered out like a shooting star. It is a sudden and uncomfortable quiet.

Nevertheless, as the minutes pass, the trip seems to seep back in, almost imperceptibly, like it’s trying to sneak past me without waking me up. The haze of visuals returns like heat waves radiating off of everything.

T2:36- I am mostly down, burning and smoldering and simmering out for real now. I watch anime and laze around reading about things on the internet.

T3:30- The trip still lingers around, like a quiet guest at a party that doesn’t know when to leave. I am ruminating and fantasizing and thinking a lot and it feels nice. It eventually just merges into being stoned as I smoke more weed.

T5:00- I feel back to baseline by now.

Conclusion: This trip was overwhelmingly enthusiastic, though it was also overall unobtrusive and light in most other aspects. The bodyload was moderate and characterized by a rushing stimminess. The visuals were timid and accessory to the experience, while the headspace was also fairly standard for a medium dose of any psychedelic. This was most notably and powerfully characterized by a distorted sense of excitement and enthusiasm riding a wave of fiery stimulation. I was so hyped up I wanted to fight and run around until I wore myself out. It’s exciting and probably would potentiate the mania of other drugs a good bit. Lucid yet hazy and dreamy, and fraught with explosive energy. That all sounds contradictory but I promise it makes sense.

MXPr

Age: 24

Weight: 135 lbs

Dosage: 60 mg Intranasal

Setting: My apartment

T0:00- Dose administered, a fairly large quantity of powder which is very light and fluffy. It stings a good bit initially but this quickly fades to an aching discomfort. After about 1 minute its really not too bad at all. The chalky powder puffs up and coats my sinuses and throat, it has a familiar acrid odor more reminiscent of tryptamines than arylcyclohexylamines.

T0:04- This comes on fast. I was going to roll a joint and settle in but I am already feeling manic and wobbly and numb at my fingertips. My entire body feels floaty and light and slowly losing my equilibrium. I feel kind of queasy, not the painful aching nausea that comes with psychedelics but a sort of motion sickness queasiness. It’s coming on so quickly that I feel like I need to stop and catch my breath.

T0:10- After the initial rush, it’s building more slowly now, but the sense of dissociation is steadily burgeoning. I begin to feel pressure on my head, like I’m wearing a tight hat. My entire body feels wavy and queasy like an oil slick on the surface of rippling water. It feels like I am being enveloped in gelatinous tentacles that numb my body to its core as they enshrine it. As my familiar sense of familiar being seeps away, the gaps in my perception are filled with a sense of being gooey and fluid. I light up the joint that I managed to roll.

T0:20- This experience feels so floaty and ‘wet’, as though every part of me is flowing like a liquid. There is also a great sense of pressure- I feel like I’m being sucked into myself, the boundaries of my flesh are being pulled inwards or being pressed into the core of my being. The descent into liquid dissociation grows more and more by the moment, distinctly punctuated with the addition of cannabis. A more mature dissociation feels like its creeping in for a grand crescendo, coming in increasingly intense waves.

T0:30- It’s beginning to hit in earnest now. I feel cold while also being unsure of what body parts exactly feel cold or where they even are. It’s a sterile clinical sort of dissociation, touched with an abiotic sense of digitization and the cold calculated efficiency of a computer. Visuals begin to distinctly manifest as a brightening of all colors around me, with lighter tones on objects becoming vivid and saturated. It is like the entire world is glistening and glowing with fluorescent technicolor flashes of light. Everything seems to glow with an iridescent aura. Despite the impersonal coldness there is a distinct sense of presence, as though the drug has established itself as another being sharing my space with me. Not a particularly warm or welcoming being however.

The trip so far has a simultaneously radiant and glistening energy like a burning ember and a sense of stillness and emptiness. I can especially feel this from my sinuses as an unpleasant drip begins to harangue me. The glow and aura around everything I can see grows stronger and stronger, almost becoming blinding. I feel like I have to squint to spare myself from their intensity.

With my eyes closed, the visuals present as blocky and triangular, large swatches of color interlocking and zooming around. I don’t feel like I am in a hole, rather I can open my eyes and snap out of it and move if I need to, temporarily breaking the hold the drug has on me. I can get up and walk around and do things and it feels as though the experience has taken a back seat while I do. Nevertheless, if I sit still and focus, it returns in full force. There is still a sense of pressure, like the energy of the drug is literally clutching my brain, though it seems as though I can loosen its grip through sheer willpower. In the white spaces on my computer screen a flashing iridescent honeycomb pattern begins to weave its way inwards. I sink into my bed as a pattern of concentric levels of dissociative pressure stratify discretely outwards from my brain.

T0:35- This is so bright and colorful! It’s very fun out of pure novelty, though it seems lacking in its own inherent rushing euphoria. I turn my lights off and the darkness becomes dominated by shooting red and blue beams of light, collapsing into static stippling patterns. I feel so energetic and manic, not the sort of “do what you want without consequences” mania that drugs like PCP can impart, but a kind of “You can do so much in so little time” type of mania. Though I don’t particularly want to do anything other than droop and melt and sag and enjoy the flashy visuals and the neon green auras around everything. The experience seems to sit in the background, participating in warping my perceptions when I give it the opportunity to volunteer. It is by no means forceful or uncontrollable, there is no rush or intensity to it. My mental ability also feels dulled and suppressed, I mostly just feel like I am lying here with a blank and empty mind. 

T0:40- I’m radiating energy to the point that the borders of my physical being are evaporating and streaming off, swirling and intermixing with my environment. I feel like my existence is stretched over a corner, stretched over the apex of an angle. I feel so cold yet I am at the same time basking in the warmth of a twisting blazing spitfire of vibrant colors. This feels more anesthetic than most dissociatives- I can hardly detect any sensations on the surface of my skin.

0:45- I yank myself up out of it again, I get up and try to walk- my balance highly disturbed, but I am still fairly functional. I lie back down and sink into it again. The intensity seems as though it has begun to level off at a distinct peak. It is loud, flashy, ostentatious, yet gentle and almost impotent. This experience has entirely felt like I am on the precipice of something greater, deeper, and more intense, though the pale has simply not been crossed. There is a glow over the horizon, there is a glow just out of view. I wish I knew how to approach it.

T0:50- Feel a numbing buzzing in my mouth, like it is being vibrated into nothing. Can’t feel my teeth at all, just a tingling where they should be. I feel like I’m in motion even though I’m lying still, a familiar dissociative symptom. Everything I see with my open eyes is tinted a glowing green now, and my head is rising like an inflating helium balloon. On the smooth and mottled surfaces in my vision is an endless field of textures resembling cells, perfectly interlocked. The extremities and apices of my body glow like St. Elmos fire, casting a ghostly light into the night. The night is a monolithic wriggling and writhing darkness that closes in on me, an unctuous medium that threatens to envelop me in the chaos it contains in cryptic infinitum. Blocks and dark shapes lurk ambiguously at the tingling corners of my vision, moving freely in the nearly-indiscernible static that encroaches inwards on my field of view. My feet feel like yarn, I do not know if I could easily stand up anymore. I can still pull myself out of the experience at will though, at least mentally, which seems to also dampen the sensory effects. But I’m enjoying myself and feel no need to do this. Concentric ripples begin to spread and collide and interfere with one another, filling my vision with their gentle distortion. My notes have become noticeably incoherent and typo-ridden at this point, suggesting an increasing mental and physical impairment.

T1:00- It somehow becomes even more. I underestimated this compound, it has metamorphosed from a gentle fleeting sort of experience into a more comprehensive hallucinatory dissociative trip. It feels like a brush that has swept my entire existence across the floor in one big smear. It is cold, it is massive yet rises and floats with an incredible evacuative energy like an explosion of helium. There is such an immense pressure enveloping me, my head feels like it’s shaped like a cylinder, and the prevailing sense of the experience becomes one of hollowness, of a great cold void inside of all things, vacuous and breezy like a gaping icy maw in the endless darkness of space. It is a trip that is dense and massive in its emptiness, like a puddle of tar engulfing me in zero gravity.

The closed eye visuals present like great tendrils swirling in a spiral around me. They vibrate across my body, they carry it through time. I feel like I am a brick arch spanning a river.  I feel like I am floating on a boat on a very still pond at night, illuminated by the silvery moon, with a distinct chill in the air. The waves of numbness tingle across my body rhythmically as a dense mental dissociation wraps me in its umbral legs like a great spider, my entire sense of self melting and drooping at every point of contact with its slick chitin. It wraps me up and draws me into the abyssal cavern of the empty sky, illuminated by flashes of fiery crackling green. I am still cold and shivering. All of my cells become alight with freezing green fire, casting my form into the void in an atomized jet. The particles rise ever upwards, coalescing into interlocking triangles, amidst a backdrop of collages pulled from my recent memory, sights I saw in my waking day as I walked around the city, interspersed with imaginary landscapes of pinnacles of twisted black rock against a violet night sky. The images collapse into a dense collection of branching fronds that withdraw and recede into the hollow darkness. I am nothing again before the darkness itself collapses back into explosive and frenetic color and energy.

T1:05- I let myself immerse in the experience. It is nice to have this degree of control. The images are ornate, great green and gold arches woven from swirling immaculate latticework, reminiscent of the shiny exoskeletons of insects. Basking in these images is a blissful paralyzing serenity, one which crawls across the sky in an aurora of blue and violet. The entire experience feels so clean and clear and cogent, despite my heavily dulled mind. I am being tossed about by waves over an immense ocean with my head above water the entire time. It is deep and dark and so comprehensive in its power. It  doesn’t carry the crushing force or the sheer momentum and magnitude that other dissociatives can carry, in my ability the willfully pull myself from the experience , it feels neutered on more derived and fundamental levels and it feels almost virtual. It is a dissociative shell around a great emptiness, it is being weightless in the void as you ripple through its boundaries. I can still get up and walk if I want to it turns out. I venture out into the dark hallway outside of my room and the walls are covered in images in blue relief. They appear as great human faces, though totally alien and soulless like statues. Toothy mouths flash in and out of existence in the darkness. I have been noticeably nauseous for the entire experience.

T1:15- It loses momentum and begins to collapse. It feels fleshy and awkward and it begins to wheeze and heave as it trips over itself and tumbles down into oblivion. It fades out, though my extremities and joints still feel particularly numb. Iridescent forms flash in and out of the edges of my vision as the dull visuals that populated everything I saw began to recede.

T1:26- I am just lying completely still. It is very easy to be immobile. The remnants of the trip swirl and dance around me as they fade into the night. Some of the more energetic and manic dissociatives lend a sort of mental acuity on the comedown, but my brain mostly just feels dumb and blank right now. It's hard to form thoughts or react to things, it just feels totally apathetic and anhedonic.

T1:40- Mostly just feeling the physical impairment now. I am still unsteady on my feet and feeling very numb and wobbly and cold. I am still getting bits of drip too, even though the experience has mostly phased out. Everything still has a slight coronal glow around it, and everything looks slightly lit from below with subtle green light.

T2:00- I feel like I am mostly back to baseline. Still feeling slow and dulled.

T2:40- Definitely entirely back to baseline save for a residual sense of mental dissociation, a slight numbness in my extremities, and a barely discernible loss of equilibrium. These persist to a point of being just barely perceptible until I go to sleep.

T5:00- Go to sleep without issue. Wake up feeling normal.

Conclusion: Short sweet and intense yet hollow. With any new dissociative that appears on the market, there is a temptation to draw comparisons to the dodo bird of dissociatives, the elusive and much revered MXE. I will say they are hardly comparable. MXPr lacks the weight and force of other arylcyclohexylamines, there seems to be no "core" to it. It feels like a dissociative shell over a great hollow nothingness. It is surprisingly lucid despite its intensity at points, and I found myself able to pull myself in and out of the experience at will. It lacks the euphoric rush of other dissociatives, and while manic at times, it is not the fiery mentally stimulating mania that can be found with the others, it's a light and floaty sort of mania. There isn't as much mental acuity or enhancement or introspection, but rather in line with that hollow feeling, it feels like it instills a sort of dullness and mental impairment, like my brain has become empty too. The physical effects are strong, with noticeably acute anesthesia and loss of balance, though even these can be suppressed with enough focus. It's hard to say if I was in a hole state or not due to the degree of control I maintained for the entire experience. Later tests with higher doses (up to 100 mg intranasal) proved more difficult to control but it was still possible. Also of note is that it induced nausea to a degree not usually felt with dissociatives. It is also remarkably pretty and visual compared to other dissociatives, with lots of of vibrant colors adorning everything in my open eyed field of vision. It seems to instill a sort of hallucinatory light, with bright colorful glows and auras around everything. The visuals are fairly detailed and the imagery forms as tendrils and patterns and pareidolia, reminiscent of psychedelics. It has a sort of 'cyberpunk' character and it would be a fun drug  character to take at a dark club or festival or show, and it would be super interesting to see how it does in combination with other drugs. Overall, it is a short and at times fairly lucid and clean experience lacking in stimulation or euphoria or weight, but with a good degree of physical dissociation and vibrant and intense colorful, flashy visuals.

2C-C (Intranasal)

Age: 23

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 30 mg Intranasal

Setting: My friend's house

I had arrived at the house of one of my dearest friends in the early afternoon. He was trying acid for the first time, along with several of his roommates and close friends, who all had varying levels of experience with psychedelics. They had all dosed about two hours before I got there so I decided to give myself an experience I could dive right into, where I could be at my peak synchronized with them. I opted for a 2C-x compound, dosed intranasally.

T0:00- I snorted a big pile of chalky powder. As expected, it was instantly extremely unpleasant. Searing pain fired its way up my nose like a blowtorch, blistering everything it touched and crackling into my nerves. I coughed and sputtered as it stung my sinuses like being whipped with nettles, the jolts of pain fearsome and uncompromising. My eyes winced shut and tears ran uncontrollably from them. I couldn't talk, all I could do was cringe and shudder. The sheer volume of powder made this substantially more unpleasant than my experience with snorting other 2C-x compounds. 

T0:05- The drip begins to run down my throat, burning the whole way down. I shudder as it runs its course, horrid bitter chills that rattle my spine. I am shaking as the experience begins to take grip with its wrenching polychrome fingers. They tear into me, eviscerate my mind and body, a swift and messy medieval surgery to insert a sizzling psychedelic experience into my nervous system as quickly as possible. Nervous energy shoots into my extremities a bit too quickly for comfort- definitely none of the gentle gradual immersion of dosing orally. 

T0:10- The nausea overwhelms me as the bitter chemical seeps deeper into my body. My body hotly rejects this poison, and I have to quickly run upstairs to throw up in the bathroom. I instantly feel better, a rare occurrence for me as typically the sickness from psychedelics sticks around for the duration of my experiences. I start to pick up on visuals as I purge my sickness, lights and flashes of color at the edges of my vision, pulsing and creeping inwards with each nervous throb of my heart. I return downstairs, feeling invigorated and replenished, though there is still a measure of physical pain and discomfort in my nose, my abdomen, and my muscles. This seems to be a bit of concern for my company but I reassure them that I'm feeling much better now and that I know what I'm doing probably. 

T0:12- The more positive aspects of the experience begin to pick up now. Tossed into the pool with the swirling discomfort is a rushing euphoria as the world begins to seethe with light and saturation around me. Concentric patterns, radiating patterns, floral patterns, all interlocking and traced around each other begin to manifest on every surface, waves of green and deep ruddy purple pulsing through them. These visuals feature no pareidolia or figures or forms- they are purely geoemtric and abstract, divorced from any organic form or behavior.

T0:20- The euphoria washes over into hypomania. I am talking a lot, I feel hotly stimulated and my body and mind are rushing through the aether like a meteorite in the atmosphere, blistering with friction. I am infodumping about drugs to people I pray are interested and aren't just humoring me. I am shaking a lot and can't really sit still or find a comfortable position. I am extremely restless, and the experience so far shows no sign of leveling off. I chew some gum to mitigate the clenching in my jaw. There is still substantial lingering pain in my nose and throat. The visuals begin to conform to straight lines, and intersections in my vision pulsing and propagating from those points like an antenna emitting waves of electromagnetic radiation. They adhere to the corners of my field of view, sending out ripples across the center, and propagate from the junctions of hallucinated lines and structures like some great subconscious architecture mechanically and mathematically generating itself on every blank surface. 

T0:37- The patterns are blooming and blossoming on everything in a more freeform manner now, reminiscent of life-forms like scallop shells and palmetto fronds alongside great concentric diamonds, striped with rainbows and dark bands pulsing with prismatic auras. Though they resemble the organic, they are entirely artificial in their feeling, mechanical, impersonal, dead and unreal. They are still entirely strikingly beautiful and rippling with an entirely different kind of energy than that contained by the living. It is a primal, universal, esoteric and cosmic energy, one that exists and propagates on the virtue of its own mathematical physical properties. The overall energy in the room takes on a varegiated landscape as everyone's individual experiences manifest deeper, ranging from the whimsy of exploration and novelty, to returning to a jovial and familiar comfort, to anxious detachment and incoherency and the panic of thought loops. My personal experience is rushing, fiery, electric, I try to take notes but end up feeling no desire but to scribble incoherently in my notebook, to at least vent some of this pent up energy. I smoke a bit of weed to alleviate some of the physical effects and round the experience off a bit. 

T0:50- A whole host of new people enters the room, drastically shifting the dynamic. Frankly I don't know any of them too well and none of them are on psychedelics, so I retreat to a couch out of the way so I can just draw pictures and quietly observe. Everyone else in the house greets them warmly, and the space is soon whirring with the sharing of affections and pleasantries at one another's company. What was a patchwork of introspective shared experience has now broadened into wider interactions, and though it is nice to witness, it is disorienting and I am content to exist in my niche hiding amongst the crevasses of all the activity. The arrival of some of these people seems to bring a measure of great relief to the person having a challenging and anxious experience, a relief for those who were concerned about them. I try to explore my own experience, noting that there aren't too many closed eye visuals and that they seem to fueled by the fire of my sensory experience. I smoke some more weed and that certainly kicks up the open eyed visuals. 

T1:00- Still peaking the same, nothing new to note, the visuals predominantly take the form of palmettos conforming to a straight and exact framework of diamonds shapes and to the literal boundaries of my vision. The room is fairly dark as the sun begins sinking, allowing for a detailed interplay of these forms in the dimness, allowing them to take on swirling and vibrant colors. Almost no auditory effects to note except a slight flanging and reverberation of sound, making everything sound ever so slightly deeper- not deeper in pitch but more voluminous. 

T1:20- I note that there is still a residual burn in my face, but it is a mere annoyance and is entirely tolerable. Such is the price of being plunged into such an experience so quickly. Concentric auras adorn everything, everything is flashing and pulsing with light. I am content where this experience has leveled off. A lot of the initial stimulation and mania and rushing euphoria has softened and the trip has turned down to a pleasant smolder and sizzle. 

T2:28- Several people embark on a sort of psychedelic second wind, redosing themselves. Another person takes an initial dose at this time. The energy in the room has settled down to people interacting more intimately one on one, falling into their respective social niches and rapports. I smoke a great deal more cannabis to stir the dust on my experience and kick it back up, so I too can taste some psychedelic rejuvenation. Things already feel on the downturn for me. Smoking more definitely achieves the goal of kicking up the experience, breathing a new life and vividness into the experience, tangible fresh pulses through the visuals and headspace. 

T3:20- The physical stimulation has mostly given way to a burnt exhaustion now- not the sort of exhaustion from long tiring exertion and endurance, but a hotter and more acute exhaustion of nerves and muscles frazzled from so much energy firing through them. I spoke with the person who was having the difficult experience and they had mostly recovered. It was nice to help them navigate and articulate their experience in fresh retrospect, to feel competent and helpful in the development of someone else's psychedelic repertoire. It was ultimately a valuable and useful experience despite the distinct terror and confusion, as it often is, and no lasting negative consequences were immediately observed as being incurred. 

T4:30- Things wind down more and I smoke more to try and wring more color and energy out of the experience. It seems as though it is receding as rapidly as it came on however, as I am left mostly with just feeling stoned, with a bit of extra energy and color. 

T5:30- I wind down the rest of the night with more weed and gentle intimate social interaction with many people. I honestly am very close with only one person here who I have known for a very long time, though everyone else is still extremely friendly and welcoming and receptive to close interaction. I grow closer to everyone it feels, while at the same time I can enjoy witnessing how several people who know each other intimately interact and express their friendship and affection and camaraderie with one another. I am in the gentle pleasant afterglow of the experience, where it feels like my mind is running faster than usual- it is an enhanced and warm and euphoric functionality, where I have passed any boundary of being impaired. Every aspect of myself feels enhanced, including the glowing vibrancy of colors around me, a pulsing seething heated saturation of my visual field.

T7:00- People are at all sorts of different levels of experience and the energy in the room is diverse, swirling with activity and a patchwork of different perceptions from people in a variety of head spaces. I personally am mostly back to baseline, my trip replaced for the most part with simply being stoned. 

T9:00- I set out for home. The subway ride is faded and exhilarating, though the visuals have mostly passed by this point. Riding the subway late at night while visuals play off of every surface has always been a favorite experience of mine, though it seems things have subsided by now. I get home and fall asleep without issue after about 4 hours of goofing off.

Conclusion: 2C-C dosed intranasally has a similar effect profile to other intranasally dosed 2C-x compounds- namely greater potency, faster comeup, shorter duration, and extreme pain upon dosing. 2C-C however was particularly unpleasant to consume. It had roughly the same degree of pain as 2C-B, but it was markedly more unpleasant due to the greater quantity of powder being consumed. The pain also lingered a great deal longer than it did with other 2C-x compounds. The nature of the experience itself resembled other explorations with 2C-C- it was marked with a certain latent energy, like heat rising off of hot asphalt. It rippled with fire and electricity like a transformer explosion, and was adorned with bright pulsing and flashing visuals, architectural and structural and artificial, with a focus on radial and concentric forms conforming to straight, careful frameworks. The headspace was euphoric, with a manic stimulant rush, probably owing to the intensity of the route of administration.

3-MeO-PCP + Cocaine ++ 3-MeO-PCE + 4-AcO-DPT

Dosages: 

T0:00 10 mg 3-MeO-PCP oral, 3 bumps of cocaine, intranasal
T~7:00 20 mg 3-MeO-PCE intranasal 
T~9:00 20 mg 4-AcO-DPT intranasal 
T~12:00 5 mg 3-MeO-PCP intranasal, 10 mg 3-MeO-PCE intranasal, 10 mg 4-AcO-DPT intranasal

What a waste of time- a week spent being a degenerate in the dead of winter, every dark day colored by a languid hedonistic blur of dissociatives and benzodiazepines. I went through the motions of seeing friends, sustaining my relationships, running the occasional errand, rarely feeding myself- the moments of clarity stained by an obsessive occupation with getting altered, a body on autopilot, a vehicle for consuming more drugs. Self-deprecation and self-loathing become a sinking cycle and seemingly the only logically viable lens for introspection.

3-HO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCP, 2F-DCK, and a steady stream of etizolam were entertaining glimmers in an otherwise idle and useless being. Fueled by chemicals, I had resigned myself to my dependency and rendered myself impotent with my fixation on getting high. It was an exponential skyrocket on a perpetually creeping trend of poor coping skills that had become entrenched years ago. Potential futures with no access to drugs became a looming existential nightmare.

Truly, what was I gaining from it anymore? Drugs no longer felt exploratory, novel, or useful anymore. My lifeblood was hedonism, just enough to sustain any will to keep drifting through time. I was teetering on a precipice, over nothing, or some terribly dull something. I was awake until 6 or 7 in the morning most days. It was usually dark already by the time I woke up again, A self-inflicted polar winter.

On this particular January day, I again, woke up late in the afternoon. My roommate had a small birthday party planned later that night. Until then I decided to make myself somewhat useful and run a few errands in the neighborhood. A few bumps of cocaine gave me the jolt I needed to fold laundry. A capsule of 10 mg of 3-MeO-PCP was taken before setting out to get some things from a nearby drugstore, timed perfectly to creep up on me right as I was getting home. At least I was fairly competent at this. I was stimulated, buzzing and decidedly in motion, with little in the way of expectations or plans for the rest of the night. Just existing in the present, with a perpetually worsening stray idleness. The air outside was swirling with cold.

The day and night wore on, as the drugs wore off, and I felt entirely sapped of energy. I intended to hang out with my roommate’s friends for a bit but now felt 0 desire to socialize or talk to anyone. My partner asked to hang out and I coldly rejected them and stated I would prefer to be alone, to just hide away in my room and be on drugs. What pleasure. I eventually got bored of course and went out to interact with people, which led to the discovery that it had begun to snow substantially outside. I have historically always been a proponent of combining drugs and the serendipity of the weather, so I naturally saw this as an opportunity to seize on. The first part of my plan was set into motion, a bump of about 20 mg of 3-MeO-PCE. I socialized awkwardly a little more as my gentle and familiar favorite dissociative crawled up my neurons, a reassuring nostalgia of some time when doing drugs felt at least somewhat healthy and productive. Things wound down around 2 am as the deep night witching hour snow slipped its icy soft hand over the breath of the city outside.

I returned to my room, took my regimen of nausea abatement, and snorted 20 mg of 4-AcO-DPT. Snow continued to fall outside. I planned to catch the sunrise by the riverside in the thick of the storm, a potential glorious wintry chorus at the climax of the night. An anxious nausea crawled up my neurons, my synapses sparking with glittering arcs, a nervous firework display, iridescent discharges crackling at the tips and tendrils of my existence. 3-MeO-PCE has already become established in my lexicon as an aggressive and fiery potentiator of pretty much everything else, and even here in the downturn of my previous dose it clutched the new drug in my system and soared into the sky with it like a vitreous osprey grabbing a sputtering prismatic fish, the water dripping from it catching golden sunlight like a shower of sparks. A newfound energy charged into my extremities, electrifying my muscles. Every movement felt so exact and precise, I was invigorated with what felt like a supernatural control over my motor skills, every movement exactly where it need to be, exactly how it needed to be, every bit of momentum perfectly compensated for. Everything my eyes fell upon was taken by immaculate beauty, multicolored auras and shuddering tracers and afterimages accompanied every movement of my ocular muscles, while every surface that could accommodate it became adorned with an intricate iridescent relief. The shadows of a more beautiful world being cast upon ours.

I danced around in these invigorating and blossoming feelings of confidence and competence as a means of killing a few hours. Every sense I experienced and ability I expressed felt heightened, I felt far superior too my regular self. This was objectively proven wrong by several failed tests of ability, but I chose to ignore that.

I internalized some vague objective of experiencing “awe”, something terrifying, something wonderful, something dizzying in its scope, yet immediately recognizable in its grandeur. Something like God, or some similar idea. When the time came I geared up and bundled up, each garment, each layer, each object on my person carefully selected to optimize maintaining comfort while out in the blustery cold. One final preparation- a glitterbomb of a booster shot, a single line containing 3-MeO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCE and 4-AcO-DPT spiked straight into my face. It landed, and awaited detonation.

The night was dead still and silent when I set out, save for the glimmering cascade swirling around me, glittering flecks of the icy sky decorating and dazzling my coat like a million rhinestones. The streetlights radiated halos around them, catching the sparkling crystalline breath that had overcome the world. There was a lull in the trip at this point, allowing me enough lucidity to navigate the now alien landscape. I was utterly alone, on this snowy night at 5 in the morning. I went to a local park and sheltered in the shadow of a tree as the snow caught the ambient light and reflected it into the sky, a glowing beacon illuminating the constant onslaught of glassy flakes as they drifted to the earth. The eventual destination in mind was a park along the waterfront, where I would be afforded some privacy to look out over the skyline and watch the daybreak in peace.

The radiant brilliance of the sun is muted on stormy days. When clouds weep over the sky, the sun’s rising is not a blazing sword, chasing a clambering night to the far side of the earth. It’s a meek, muted glow, a timid peek over the horizon as it impotently meanders into the sky. As I meandered to my destination it dawned on me that I would not be witness to a glorious sunrise. I wandered into more constructed places that had already begun to angrily flail and throw off their blanket of snow in some delirious dawn night terror. The glistening alabaster that had adorned the more residential parts of the city had been swapped for an onslaught of machines turning the frosting into grey slush, a big cold, wet, dirty mess, skinned with all the soot and ash and gravel and dust and filth of the city and the vehicles that traverse it. No rays of sunlight tearing open the sky from the east- just a choking illumination, a steady glow that perversely hushes the night away, pensive and lazy. The falling snow was grey. The sky was grey. The slush that piled around my feet were all mushy grey.

The bomb exploded. A dark street saturated with  the melted snow and framed by compacted grey asphalt slush. Floodlights glaring down from the grand academic buildings above, walking through scaffolding that was messily adorned with the tortured water from the sky. I am out of my head, I am out of my body, I am shifted slightly above and to the left, how are my legs moving still? Has my gait changed? My body was no longer synchronous, but alas each part seemed to perform its job well enough to keep the whole body moving- well practiced coordination. I had a ways to go until I was safe- there were cars, passerby, glints of eyes as they catch the flashes of madness reflecting off mine. I exuded disorder, disjoint, I was bleeding and disintegrating into a tumbling jumble of pixelated building blocks. Amidst the dense trembling tenements of my nervous system, quaking under the shroud of a cognitive air-raid siren, my heart was thrashing, seething with adrenaline and thrusting its primal visceral panic into my carotid artery. One shot of panic after another right into my brain, turning my grey matter to cold pumice, shuddering my muscles. I did not time this correctly.

Walking walking just keep walking it was all I could do, no matter the oculars coalescing out of the swirling textures at my flanks. I am warm, it is so cold, I sit down on some stairs behind a wall- a brief respite. No one can see me, I can see the sky collapsing above me. I am breathing heavily, I am drenched in the tickling shroud of a looming wraith of dread. There is nowhere to go but onwards.

I trudge and trudge, panic and panic, I meet busy intersections, highway exits, furious metal beasts trying to navigate their snowy landscape, clambering over the snowbanks and ice chunks, groaning and roaring and muttering to themselves as they tear past me, their lights eviscerating me as they go. I am a faceless madman to passerby, an amorphous figure tossed out into the snowstorm like a plastic bag blown loose from the branches of a dead winter tree.

The sun had seeped into the ruminating clouds that oozed over the city, a shy and timid deep blue trying in earnest to hide its face behind a curtain of unrelenting gossamer grey, the grey of wet concrete on a humid overcast day. The daybreak was humble and relegated itself to the background as the sterile cathedrals of the cities skyscrapers glared defiantly into the storm. Keeled against the billows of frost, they stood tall as winters wrath clattered off of their perfect hides, a crystalline monument to a contempt for nature, for not even a deafening salvo of covetous ice could shudder these titans.

I was awestruck- at the lights that framed these buildings and illuminated the march of the crystalline army that drifted around them. At their force, their energy, these crystalline pillars thrusting into the reclining sky.

I had to look closer, I rushed to a pathway over the river that granted a comprehensive view of the skyline. Undetonated ordinance had been perturbed. The second shockwave hit. This was no longer the familiar skyline I gazed upon. New buildings had wedged themselves between the familiar ones, turning the distinct skyline into an impenetrable wall of skyscrapers, all vitreous iridescent green. They flashed, warped, mirrored themselves and followed my field of vision. I was deep in it now. I was awestruck. I wanted to scream about the beauty. I wanted to transmit this image to everyone in the world, these great titans of man being embraced by the iridescent cascade from the sky. A shadow loomed over me however, and I found myself initiating a great oscillation.

 I saw myself from the third person in a rectangular screen. As my thoughts gathered momentum that image replicated itself and trailed off into infinity. Seeing myself, there in that image, left me entirely at a loss for how to navigate existence. Then I felt it-them. My thoughts were travelling, jumping, associating in a particularly aberrant manner, far beyond any natural flow of cognition. I have felt this before, this distinct metallic feeling, the presence. The presence had metal fingers. The presence knew how thoughts would normally flow through my brain. The presence rearranged those pathways with its long metal fingers. Each little touch of its fingertips sparked a fresh wave of panic, coursing through my bloodstream. My thoughts connected and associated in ways I thought inconceivable- perhaps the presence knew how to reconstruct me here but I certainly had not an inkling of its intentions.

 Primeval confusion and panic set in. I had been reprogrammed. In public. Snow was falling. Transportation infrastructure was crippled. The only way home was to walk, through populated neighborhood. The sun was fully up now. My crime was laid bare, the morning joggers who braved the snow had begun to materialize. I was wispy, an unentity, a creature of the night suddenly finding itself trapped in the spotlight of the muted sun. I had no benzos or anything on me that could arrest the experience. I had really truly fucked up. All I could do was laugh, I was completely stranded, tripping too hard to function, with limited options.

 A great deal of mental energy was expended wrangling the writhing metallic serpents trying to flee in all directions from my mind, each of them liable to inflict some form of psychic mischief. The presence got aggressive, it whipped apart my fields of perception, it twisted them and bent them, until I too was bent and twisted out of any state of rational perception. It talked to me, it tried to, it wanted to tell me so much, it wanted me to do things, to create things, to destroy things, to unmake the world and perform obscure tasks, its voice was metal, transmitted not through words but as sinister obscure and impossible ideas directly into my brain, liquid metal filling in the cerebral wrinkles, each neuron it touched exploding into a cascade of visceral panic. I saw my face from five feet away. My form shifted and shuddered and blinked. I did not know where my mind was. I did not know who contained my thoughts and intentions, I did not know who controlled my thoughts or intentions. I focused all of my mental energy, I stood up, I paced, I breathed, I met this before, I could dispel it. The snow raged around me, each flake a malicious metal eye pointed straight at me, the presence drilling its mind into mine, I plunged my face into my hands and closed my eyes and threw myself headlong into a disintegration chamber constructed of shifting and shuddering forms. I opened my eyes again and stood up. Okay for now. The snow felt like a billowing miasma swirling around my back, waiting for the next chance to clutch at me with so many metallic tendrils. I could not stop and think for too long or it would grip me again, smiling its great palladium smile without having a mouth at all.

Terror, Terror. What do I do? No one could come bail me out, no one could drive out here and save me, I couldn’t get law involved oh god fuck no. I truly could only bail myself out of this situation. It was very cold. My frail body was very exhausted. I could not be in public, as I was being stalked by a malevolent force. I had nothing to go on here.

I walked and kept walking, perhaps a change of scenery would keep the panic at bay. And god by god the awe the brilliant light of grace a million lumens into the heavens, soaring into the sky and cascading silky iridescence down upon me the beauty was riveting, all of the colors of the sun piercing straight into my heart, a stark white beam, perfect in every way screaming from my skull into the heavens, enraptured in ecstasy. By all holy, by all sacred, it was awesome, something terrifying, something wonderful, something dizzying in its scope, yet immediately recognizable in its grandeur. It shook me to my core, plunging into my St. Teresa heart, a fiery icy ecstasy the likes of which only the unity of the beauty of divine grace could writhe through my neurons. I wept tears of joy at witnessing such a serendipitous moment in the world, at being here, now, witnessing this, in this ephemeral scene that could only live on in my mind.

Maybe it was the drugs talking. But Maybe it was the scene- The sky was yet to entirely abandon its timid blue. The lonely trail curved along the river, the willow trees and tufts of grass adorned in luscious crystalline draperies, their sullen branches in stark contrast with the smooth, gentle, glistening sugar of the snow upon them. The river was a solemn blue-gray, the color of a depression room when the sun sets but the lights haven’t been turned on all day. Palaces of iron thrust into the luminous sky, great smokestack cathedral spires, embellished by the gentle kisses of the snowflakes that swirled into them. Icicles, vitreous and wind-sculpted, clung to every surface, crystalline friezes making a pilgrimage unto the earth. In the foreground, a technicolor freight train passed into infinity, its rust and weathered paint peaceably entwining its fingers with the frigid air. Everything towered over me, everything sang deep into the sky, a chorus of pillars of light and beauty firing towards the heavens. Steam poured from towers and smokestacks and the tops of buildings, creeping across the skyscape, the city waking up and coming to life and coming into motion under the muted gaze of the icy stratus clouds. 
I paced back and forth through the park for about an hour, oscillating rapidly between absolutely disintegrating terror and ecstatic awe. One checked the other, I felt demented and tilted, whipped into a frenzy of jilted broken energy by the vicious polarity of this experience. The earth around me was so cold yet so radiant, so much energy thrust through its heart, energy that bled out like wind whipping from the plunging throat of a cave, energy that left my mind eviscerated, with me scrambling to pick up and contain the guts that spilled forth, dusted with ice and static electricity. Reality felt virtual, shattered and rendered false. I felt like a character, like a being acting at the discretion of some other, each move of my muscles rendered and carefully placed and predestined by some other entity, and it felt so perfectly okay. An ideal balance of sacrificing my autonomy as I truly traversed and explored the land before me. The sky smoldered with somber light now, and I was fully immersed in a fully illuminated grey morning. The quiet and peace that pervaded the land before the sun had risen was inconceivable now. 
After about an hour of deep, creeping discomfort had passed, I had wrangled my mind enough to feel confident throwing my luck into a quest for home. I carefully orchestrated my re-entry to society and the world, escaping from the park away from the gaze of any pedestrians. I quickly slipped through the streets that had already been cleared of much of the snow. I quietly wove through the flecks of people that had found their way outside, begrudgingly trying to go about their days in these very adverse conditions. My legs and feet were sore, I felt overheated from all of my tight layers, and ultimately so tired and exhausted. I zoned out most of the world around me to focus on the task at hand, trudging onwards on autopilot. I finally arrived at my house without issue. At last, the quest was over. I was home safe, nothing bad had happened. It was okay at last. The pangs and traces of the panic and the scars it left as its barbs coursed through my veins had left my nerves raw. I flopped down on the couch on my porch and took several deep breaths as the relief set in on my shocked psyche. Opalescent steam rose off of my clothing and shrouded me in its gentle coils, tracing my form like soft warm fingers, caressing me in consolation for the successful completion of my journey. I sat immobile for about half an hour, panting, my legs stretched out in front of me. I relished in feeling safe, competent, in overcoming the repeated panic attacks and unwelcome intrusions by unnerving entities on nothing but my own fortitude. I relished in the physical comfort and relaxation, I reveled in the light of day and the little rainbows that adorned the snowbanks that had still coated most things in this part of the city. I reveled in the tracers still following the little blusters of snow that the wind caught and pulled from the trees. I had no reason to move, I felt so warm and good.
It was about 7:30 in the morning. I figured I should just eat and rest up the rest of the day. I dosed myself with about 2 mg of Etizolam to slow the trip down and lull my mind into the same degree of exhaustion my body felt. I showered in the morning light, a quiet and solemn and meditative experience, decorated by the clattering sound of falling water and the steamy warmth it imparted into my flesh. Every movement of mine still felt punctuated, exact and deliberate, and little iridescent halos traced everything like iris auras. I ate some rice and beans for some compact nutrition and smoked a bit of weed before passing into sleep. I slept pretty much all of the next day, and my nerves didn't feel completely rewarmed and functional until I had woken up. 
I saw beauty and terror, I had been stricken by awe, I had been carved out and shocked and burned and irradiated by prismatic fire that fractured my being. I was seared and smoldering and energized and so exhausted. I had borne witness to something wodnerful and terrible.

2018 in Review

Hello I'm late to writing this again
Oh well who even reads this anymore? I certainly don't, that's for sure.
So I guess it's become apparent- I don't post much anymore at all. There are several reasons for this, the first being, I really don't have many substances to try and pursue anymore. There just isn't much available on the market anymore that piques my interest. It's been that way for a while, and experiments have just felt tedious, but the work continued. Things like a prolonged period of abstinence, a failure of a large order, and a building monotony of experiences have contributed to a lack of morale to motivate earnest exploration.
This is coupled with just being very busy- with school, with steady work, with cultivating my relationships and social interactions. This has left very little time or mental energy to dedicate towards pursuing psychonautic experiments. This is also coupled with a general sense of pressure and shame- that this is a hobby of being younger, that this is something I should have grown out of and abandoned by now. That is no longer services my life, that I am just a drugged up degenerate, that I am a disappointment. And perhaps this is vindicated with my changing habits.
I have for the most part abandoned psychedelics- There aren't many new ones to try and the continual sense of sloth and shiftlessness during my experiences has led to feeling such a fundamental sense of wasting my time across all of my recent sojourns. I am just bored. I fail to motivate myself to properly stimulate myself through any activity while tripping and have for the most part lost the space to engage in them socially. Each trip feels like a waste of time, a waste of energy, fundamental uselessness. Not to mention the increasingly severe body load. It doesn't feel worth it much anymore.
Dissociatives though... hehehhahahahaha I love them so much. Experimentation doesn't feel worth it anymore, it's just pleasure, it's comfort, it's habit. I have found myself particularly gravitated towards 3-MeO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCE, and 3-HO-PCP, taking them at every opportunity. These experiences are not only pleasurable, but I sometimes find them meaningful and stimulating, despite the fact that they are not particularly novel. they are cleansing my mind, they allow me to introspect and analyze and organize my memories. And it's just fucking fun. I can easily acquire as much of any of them as I want, and I find myself able to do them in so many settings. Truly illumination in my life. I have found their use worryingly habitual, taking the place of my usual routine experimental trips. They are wonderful in social settings, they are wonderful alone, they are nice for walking around and exploring. I would love to further explore new dissociatives as they arise, and focus my efforts there. They are the most utilitarian drugs for me right now, but also probably the most potentially bad. Oh well.
And benzos... BENzOs........ never mind.
It's about comfort, familiarity, pleasure and the occasional meditative session now. The life giving meaning that psychonautics gave me has passed into the night. It's now life giving pleasure and hedonism, a life intertwined with chemical enhancement, with the occasional tired foray into exploration. I am honestly not sure which is worse or better for me, or which will continue to bring more shame and judgment to me. I just know, my life is inextricable from drugs, of any kind, no matter how much I try, and I just have to accept that.

Do I have a drug problem? I don't know. Dependence creeps in on the periphery, on a Trojan Horse of the pleasures and enhancements and comforts the drugs bring. They give me life, they give my life color, they give me a sense of competency and control over my life. Who knows what the future will hold, my life is changing a great deal soon. Maybe I will just give up soon. Expect less content in the future. I don't know who even reads this anymore. It's an exercise in vanity and navel gazing that I can throw at people to make myself look interesting or 'smart' or something. It's tedious and loses its steam and novelty pretty quickly. I no loner feel too dedicated to this. I am so tired.

It always falls from some kinda of healthy experimentation to utilitarian abuse of your hall of famers. Drugs are the life of me, drugs are the death of me.
I'm so tired and I'm sorry.
What do I gain from this anymore.

Whatever, fuckk it, here's my new substances review. From best to worst. It's shorter, I'm slippin. Sorry they're so brief and shitty I'm benzed and lazy.

1. 3-HO-PCP
My go to for a nice colorful and intense hole experience on dissociatives now. Not quite like MXE was, much less euphoric and a little more stressful, but appropriately vivid and exploratory. The sheer intensity takes a bit of getting used to. It's my comfortable distant place.
2. 4-AcO-DPT
This was fun! Not too much powder to snort, and it yields a powerful emotional introspection and stimulates a certain cognitive energy that foments learning and productive cognitive activity. Just a pleasurable psychedelic to immerse myself in.
3. 4-AcO-MPT
This was interesting. My report ended up being the first written for this subtstance. Short, sweet, energetic, and dynamic, with flowery visuals and a sense that the world as acting exactly as it should. Recommended for those who wish to explore something rare or new.
4. DiPT
The sound one, super interesting, but the novelty wears off quick. I really wish I could better understand the neurological underpinnings of this substance's effects.
5. 1P-LSD
Standard psychedelic, yields a nice experience depending on setting but overall not much to say to it.
6. N-Ethylhexedrone
fun fun fun fun fun too much fun too fast be safe
7. 2F-DCK
Sinking deep boring ketamine, ketamine encased in purple resin, ketamine minus the rush.
8. 4-MeO-MiPT
Literally just feels bad

Flubromazepam
Great way to loose a couple days, no furhter comment.

I am a degenerate and maybe I will get my comeuppance. Sorry to those I have hurt. I'm losing my steam and grappling with how much I may have fucked up my life

I'm sorry