At
T0:00 Both substances, 30 mg 4-AcO-DPT, 12 mg 3-HO-PCP, were insufflated in a
single line after waking up from a nap. It was nighttime. I am in my room, comfortable,
adorned, and familiar, awash in incense, dimly lit.
At
T0:30, the gravity of what I have done has already become apparent. I am a mountain
in a shower of light, erupting from the earth with the energy incurred by the
first great accretion. I am a dam holding back many furious writhing rivers.
I
take 1 hit of cannabis. The single burnt spot in the bowl looks back at me. I
am flapping in the breeze, I am cold and wobbly, I feel like the inside of a
subway tunnel at night in the winter.
Things
begin to rot. The next timestamp in my notes takes place at 20 minutes again
for some reason. I ramble about being unanchored before failing to type the
word “broken” several times. The next timestamp, at one hour, is completely
incoherent, aborted words and thoughts that couldn’t make it past my fingers.
After that, silence.
The
color drained from the room. It felt like a candle had suddenly been snuffed,
leaving nothing but lingering smoke in the air. My visual inputs began to
collapse and the world became an indeterminate jumble of forms that I couldn’t
feel assed to process. I opted to just lie in total darkness and managed to
unplug my lights. Sound became a completely incomprehensible force in my world,
filling the coagulating air. All senses were stricken, chased from my mind with
whips and scattered into the countryside. What sat in their place was a primal
metallic corruption, every input blended and distorted into one sickly nerve
that slithered down my spine. So without my sensory faculties, how was I to
supposed to process
Chaos;
it appears that my roommates had several people come to the house for an
impromptu jam session, the incomprehensible silence of the night now gave way
to a distressingly less comprehensible cacophony. There are voices outside my
door. There are drums. There is a deep bass. All sorts of sounds begin to
hammer at the walls, the fervor of life and electricity beyond my dark chamber-
I am its captive, at the mercy of a broadening darkness with electric tendrils
at its fringe, each one meticulously picking and prying at every thread of my
being, the fabric of my reality fraying and collapsing into a tangle on the
floor. It is a storm of infinite intricacy, a trillion forms each combined in
trillions more ways, it is disorder that is physically impossible for my
neurons to process. It seems like more and more people are coming into the
house, more than could possibly physically fit, the voices and sounds and
presences are multiplying exponentially outside my door, building the pressure,
ripe to crack into my dark chamber at any moment. The presences coalesce,
morphing together to form one sickening grand circus that sets the walls on
fire, a million harlequins marching in a collapsing parade that radiates
incandescent energy into the night sky, all of it perpetually stumbling and
self-transforming. A vision so complex, so deeply varied and unintelligible
that I am left listing aimlessly through its lopsided processions as they dance
and tear the fabric of space apart in exultant hysteria. I begin to teleport
around this world where nothing makes sense- suddenly I am at work again.
Suddenly I am in class. Suddenly I am a stack of books on a table. Suddenly I
am back at my parent’s house. My mind is projecting me randomly through my
memories, thoughts and spaces that distinctly aren’t mine, dizzying and
disorienting as I can find nowhere to truly return to. I genuinely have no idea
of where I “really” am existing, I am paralyzed with fear. I cannot think. I
cannot comprehend, all I can do is be at its mercy, everything is broken,
Debasement;
More than mere alterations in perception, this is more than a feeling in me, it
is a fundamental breakdown in the fabric of reality. I have done it, I have
triggered the collapse and disintegration of the world, the madness that
surrounds me outside of my room will soon be subject to the walls and the air
and the sights and sounds of the world turning to grey and homogenous static
and buckling inwards into a great void. I have doomed this world, transformed
it into a solipsistic nightmare that is shattered from inception. I am
completely alone, and the illusions which granted my solace and purpose before
this have died and now decay around me. It is a virtual world, where anything
is possible, but I am doomed to plumb the depths of its unreality as it comes
crashing into what I thought was reality, infecting and necrotizing every bit
of it that it touches and glitches out. What can I do but lie here in the dark,
entirely still, and let the creeping absence consume me? Curiously, it rolls in
asymptotically, always approaching but never arriving. It is a mindless
tantalus, a hungering maw without eyes, and I seem to be perpetually out of its
reach, I wish it would just come and take me rather than facing the
anticipation of gazing down its toothy pitch gray throat. It cannot catch me,
but I cannot escape,
Entrapment;
I blink my eyes and suddenly come to from the festering cascade. The room is
quiet, pitch black, I cannot read my clock but things have settled down. I have
no idea how much time has passed, I have no coherent recollection of what has
happened before this, whether or not I interacted with anyone, or any linear
sequence of events. One moment ago, or perhaps an eternity of moments ago, I
snorted a line of powder. The world is eerily still and silent, it is a
deafening silence in fact. I wonder if it is intact beyond my room. I get up to
peek outside but find my equilibrium is still highly disturbed. I wonder if I
really have broken reality, I wonder if I am really in some purgatory. Then it
comes back-a rushing in my ears, a slow crescendo of the noises beyond my space
returning. The chaos, the cacophony, the shattering of my word, it all begins
to crash back in, like a dam, leaking at first but soon bursting forth with a
destructive wall of vivid, devastating hallucination. Was I so foolish to think
it was over? Was I so naïve to think I could escape that easily? Just wait it
out? No, it is back in force, the world heaves and dies again, and again, and
again, sucking me down its gullet, only for me to be recursively devoured again
within its icy gizzard, still never quite being completely consumed. There is
always still a bit of me left to experience this non-experience, this raging
torrent of despair and terror and deep debased discomfort. The recursions begin
to alter and split however- tantalus, unable to entirely devour me grows bored,
and the great forces or beings or non-beings guiding this experience turn to
more creative methods of torment, for me, the Sisyphus being crushed to pulp
and static under this great boulder again and again and again, each time
getting stranger than the last,
Impersonation;
I am seeing myself in the third person this iteration, my eyes are hollow and
my body limp. I hardly recognize this person but I know it is me. It is a
broken shell of myself, if it walks it stumbles uncontrollably, it struggles to
navigate its environment in motion and in sense and in thought, it is helpless
like a newborn. I feel its fear, its confusion, its struggle, I feel the numb
dissociation at its extremities and I feel the disoriented deranged motion of
the extra momentum in its limbs. I have no control over it, I am a ghost, an
invisible consciousness separated from its body. But then what inhabits it?
What drives it forward as it struggles through its’ environment? This I do not
yet know, but it lives nonetheless. I am helpless to control this body, this
visibly broken body. It leaves the room. It interacts with people, but it is
disturbing, awkward, familiar but corrupted. It makes a scene, it causes
problems, it damages things, it damages itself, it draws attention and scorn. I
watch helplessly as this thing, this thing that is supposedly me, sullies my
name, my body, my existence. It is messy and disgusting, I hate it, I hate that
I have done this, I hate that all I can do is watch helplessly, and most of all
I hate what has taken my body, I hate whoever is controlling it and driving it
to do things other than lie completely still on my bed. And at once, I
sympathize with it, seeing myself so awkward, seeing myself struggling to
exist, I sympathize with its anesthetized and encumbered limbs, I sympathize
with its inability to comprehend anything around it, the childlike confusion in
which, from its point of view, it can do no wrong, but it does so wrong,
Pursuit;
it has crossed the pale, it has crossed the line, I have crossed the line, this
shambling corpse is causing problems and problems need solutions. Whatever
inhabits that body has no idea of the consequences of being visibly and
distressingly incapacitated, of being a cause for concern. But me, this
disembodied mind with a shred of clarity realizes that this is coming to a
head- now it pulls out its phone, now its texting people, now it is spreading
its sickness far and wide. The world churns and bubbles beyond it, the bitter
darkness outside turns its glowering eyes towards it. It was seen now, there
was no going back. Immediately its minions began to flood the streets to hunt
this body down, doctors in their white coats, EMT’s in their black shirts,
police and parents and teachers and bosses and mentors and every authority that
could threaten a stable and peaceful existence, every one that would want to
persecute me for doing reckless combinations of obscure drugs. It dawned on the
body that a disapproving world had noticed it, and panic welled up within it,
panic struck whatever sentience was taking it on a joyride, and it fled. It
ran, ran outside, bewildering those who were in the house, surrounded by a
cacophony of police sirens and vultures descending on its decaying existence as
the consciousness lost its grip and withered into the night. The body fled and
fled, on autopilot, interfering with traffic, terrifying passerby, all I could
do was follow, all I could do was pray it would resolve peacefully. More
figures appeared just out of view, formless hulking silhouettes, looming and
threatening and stalking, the paranoia of a city of eyes watching from the
shadows, none of them with good intentions. They come closer and closer, all at
once, all ready to snatch me up and punish me for my misdeeds.
I am in my bed, it is pitch dark and
silent. I am still a disembodied consciousness, and my body is still gaunt and
pale on the bed before me. Its so quiet. Did none of that happen? How did I get
back here? Had I not ruined my life? The body looks directly at me- what form
have I taken? Can it see me? Have I manifested physically now? The body is me,
it looks like me, it seems like me, but I’m me too, I distinctly remember
dosing myself with drugs at some point, I remember the day that came before
that. The body lunges towards me, it grips me with its bony hands and stares
into my mind with piercing wild eyes, framed with wisps of tangled black hair.
Its eyes are filled with fear, madness, confusion, and a deep sadness. “Why did
you do this?” it seems to ask. “Why have you done this to yourself? What are
you gaining? What will happen now? It’s all over! It’s ruined!” I try to flee,
I try to phase through the door, break the rules of reality just to escape this
persecution at my own hands. My body tears through the door, into the hallways
populated with faceless shadows of people I barely know, shoving them aside to
chase me down. I underestimate this creeping uncoordinated body and it quickly
runs me down, corners me, traps me in the rules of its reality. “WHY HAVE YOU
DONE THIS” it asks. “WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO US? WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?”
I am in my bed. I am in my body this
time. It is pitch dark and silent. I am lying there, I can feel the fabric,
though it feels coarse and stiff, and I can feel the cold air as it touches my
skin. My heart is racing too much to feel any sense of relief, and as the
infinite static and fractals and chaos bleeds in at the edges of my vision I
know that it’s not over yet. The air begins to sizzle with a metallic twinge,
every sound I make through movement flanges and reverberates, everything turns
to grey and shadows begin to mob the solid forms in my vision, I have wronged
others,
Malice;
soon the shadowy blobs begin to form into deep cuts and slashes that gash
through my field of vision. They appear on my skin and bleed indistinct black
into the world around me, like drops of ink staining a sheet of paper. So much
has threatened my reality, so much has made me feel like I had permanently
damaged my existence, but nothing I had felt so far had reached the magnitude
of this- my heart was beating out of my chest and adrenaline was coursing
through my veins. My skin went cold as the shadows begin to form into one great
dark spot in the corner of my room. It felt like a bomb went off in my head- I was
suddenly stunned and dazed, completely blinded and all of my senses completely
washed out. There was a ringing in my ears as my vision began to return, and I
saw them. They floated and coalesced from that great pooling shadow, vaguely
humanoid with 4 distinct bipedal limbs, coated in a metallic sheen, but
otherwise formless and amorphous, exuding an aura of pure malice. There was no
doubt in my mind that these beings wished me immaculate, eternal harm. There
was no doubt in my mind that I was powerless to stop them. Had I tapped into
some forbidden realm of consciousness? What had I done to warrant this
punishment? They began to draw my consciousness from my body, sucking out my
soul, leaving behind a withered corpse for the judges of our world to deal with.
Their intentions were eternity, their actions would go beyond the limits of my
consciousness, it would be suffering that I could never begin to comprehend
before, it would be a million different sufferings at the same time on the same
mind, they hated me, they despised me, they sought their own twisted justice.
Was death total? Did death mean anything in their world? Was it an escape?
Death;
what would death mean after all of this? I was already without a body, at
points, and without a mind, at points, was it when they were both snuffed out?
I lie on my bed and it seems even the ambient city light outside grows darker,
casting longer and longer shadows until the room is nothing but darkness, stale
and heavy. And the darkness sits on my chest, it crushes my lungs and sips the
breath from the lips, and my heart wrenches and I cannot feel or move my limbs
at all. I feel cold as the residual colors drain from the dark room and the
edges fade in to black. I feel tight, withered, desiccated and imperatively still.
Have I stopped breathing? Has my Heart stopped beating? Splotches of black
appear in my vision. Is this death or the precipice of something even more
terrible? I close my eyes and let it take me. The shadows smother my eyes as I
sink into the dark like a pebble twisting and swirling to the bottom of an icy
black pool.
In
the darkness, darker than the darkness, it sits, its breath is heavy like
shoulders beleaguered by an iron funeral gown, its form is the cold, the space
around it dry and sterile, nothing has lived here, nothing will ever live here.
This is what has happened. This is
now my home, among these obsidian cliffs, draped over an infinite nothingness.
I am not concerned or stressed, I am not scared, this is what comes next. When
the cells stop metabolizing, sending nerve impulses, then, then they can’t find
me, they can’t register me as an antagonist, they can leave me alone. I am at
peace, death stops all.
I gasp and come to, in my room. It
is dead silent. I think I can read the clock. Maybe 3 hours have passed. I feel
like I have awoken from sleeping for days and days. There is a weight in the
room, my limbs still feel cold and dead and dry, but it is calm and quiet. My
heart is racing. I need to end this while I can. Again the eagle comes for my
liver in the gathering clouds but for carrying no light or bringing anything
worthwhile to mankind, an absurd pity.
Its fingers clutch my face, the
cracks begin to form at the corners of my vision. I turn on the light only to
be greeted by a field of alien objects which are entirely unrecognizable to me.
Forms I thought impossible, mysterious shapes and colors that I cannot even
wrap my head around interacting with give the state of sense of body. I
hurriedly dig through my drawer to find my out- a small vial of Flualprazolam.
I grope around, picking up foreign object after foreign object until one
finally registers. I don’t even know how many drops I put on my tongue, I just
pray it will smother that which comes for me. The walls are gagged but
screaming, great dark hairy vortices sink into the corners and the world turn
grey again.
I wake up and come to again, in my
bed. Was this all a dream? Am I going to be okay? Its still so quiet. Does the
world exist outside my door? What have I gained from this? Did I have fun? Is
it over? Is it over? I am a single mind and body now. My perceptions still feel
on the precipice of disintegrating all over again. I just want it to be over.
Oh god, I can feel my limbs dying again, oh god I’m dying again, the world
ripples and crackles again.
I wake up the next afternoon with no
alarm wearing different clothes than what I was wearing for the duration of the
trip/from what I had last remembered. My phone is hiding under my desk. It
seemed I eventually blacked out, though I presumably retired to bed soon after.
I think it is over.
x
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