DOSE: T+ 0:00		oral	Alcohol
T+ 0:00	half hits		LSD	(blotter / tab)
T+ 1:00	full hits		LSD	(blotter / tab)
T+ 0:00	joints/cigs	smoked	Tobacco - Cigarettes	(device)

BODY WEIGHT:

210 lb

I was working on a resort for the summer, and all of the staff lived in one of four large trailers on site. I was just getting back to my building one night after work when I realized there was a party going on. I wanted to just go to bed, but my friend handed me a drink and convinced me to stay up. After a few hours of socializing, I decided to take a half a tab and stop drinking, as I had only had enough to drink to have a mild buzz, and didn’t want to mess with the acid I was taking. About one hour later, everyone was heading to bed, and I was annoyed that I couldn’t feel any of the effects of the half tab I had taken, so I decided to take a full tab extra. Up until this point I had only ever done a half tab per trip, and was fairly new to tripping, so I wasn’t too sure what to expect. Finally, about a half hour later, the party had cleared out and the house was quiet. It was likely 3:30 in the morning at this point.

I was starting to feel a little fuzzy, the edges of my vision had started to blur, and I was having to work harder to focus on moving and paying attention to things. I decided to go to my room and throw on a documentary, I walked down the long hallway to my room, and I remember thinking it seemed so much more ominous than it should have. There was a red emergency exit sign at the end near my door, and I remember thinking it was watching me.

I went into my room and laid down on the bed. It felt good to be laying down, I was hyper aware of my weight as it shifted from my feet to the mattress. It wasn't quite a sinking feeling, more like my weight had sloshed towards the bed. I reached over for my laptop, but when I went to open Netflix, I saw that the internet was not working. This was pretty common, we were in the middle of nowhere and the wifi at the staff housing was in desperate need of upgrading. For me at the time though, this started to bring on a sense of panic. I am not sure why this scared me so much, I think I could feel uneasiness at the edges of my mind, and must have been hoping a documentary could distract me from the trip. I felt like I had tunnel vision at this point, and my panic only grew when I realized my e cigarette was dead and I could not seem to find the charging cord anywhere. Now I was full on panicking, and managed to get outside to the porch. I went outside because I knew I needed some nicotine, and I had a full pack of darts. I sat down in a lawn chair on the porch and started to smoke.

The first thing I noticed now was that the trees surrounding us were bending inward, and that the leaves looked like they were rendered in an old PS1 game or something. I stared at them for a while, as they continued to bend inward over and over again. While this was happening, I noticed sharp edges appearing at the outline of everything, those sharp edges filled me with a sense of fear. I must have been staring at them for some time, because eventually I looked around and realized the sky was no longer black, but that it was the light blue of the coming dawn.

I looked down at the steps leading up to the porch, and saw a weed of some kind poking out. I have no idea why, but I was convinced the weed wanted to kill me. I kept muttering at it to kill me already, calling it a coward for not doing it. I felt disgusting, like my skin was crawling, like my clothes were made of rough wool and were scratching up against my body. I remember feeling so disgusted by myself that I wanted the weed to kill me, not to put me out of my misery, but because I deserved to be killed by it. The feeling of my skin crawling like that is one I struggle to forget, even though it has been a good three years since it happened.

I heard the door open behind me, and looked up to see one of the breakfast cooks had woken up and was now going to walk up to the kitchen and start work. He looked down at me, and I remember him chuckling when he saw me. I would later realize it was because my shirt was inside out and apparently I had been running my hands through my hair, making it look wild and untamed.

He asked me how I was doing, in a joking manner that showed he knew what I was up to. I cracked a smile, or the closest I could at the time, and told him I was alright. I wasn’t really, at least not in my head anyway. I was full of self loathing. I felt like I was rotting. I could still feel my skin crawling, and I felt like I was full of bees or something. Looking at him, he seemed to be fractured somehow. The whole world looked like it had been a piece of stained glass that had shattered. I remember thinking that my vision felt sharp, like the edges of the broken glass were gently scraping up against me whenever I moved. He moved on, and I looked down to where the dandelion was. It no longer seemed to want to kill me, and I was actually kind of sad about that. I wanted it to hate me, I felt like I was a terrible person and this weed had seen me for who I was.

I was out of smokes now, so I decided to go back to my room and see if the internet was working yet. It was probably around six in the morning at this point if I had to guess. I was pacing in my room, running my hands through my hair. The world still seemed sharp, and the crawling of my skin was getting worse. The bees I had alluded to earlier were in my head now, and I could hear them buzzing. The buzzing turned into a more focused tv static sound. It was quiet at first, and got louder and louder. Eventually it was all I could hear, and I felt my vision cloud over with the tv static. At this point, I could feel a piercing pain in my head, and I felt like the static was ripping my soul in half. It was the most painful thing I have ever felt, like everything I was being ripped slowly in half.

The static started to subside after that back into the shattered glass visuals from before. The sound was gone too, and now I was just sitting at the foot of my bed, staring at the ceiling which seemed to be breathing along with me, and finally I had some semblance of capability to think again. I grabbed an old blazer and a tie out of a pile of clothes beside me and put it on. I am not sure why I did this, but I felt better when I had it on.

I sat up on my bed now, and grabbed my laptop. The internet still wasn’t working, but I opened up a word document and started typing out what I was feeling. I was convinced I was a washed up author in the 1920’s, and that I was writing my last hail mary novel in a cheap motel room. I wasn’t sure what I was writing, but I just felt the need to write. This next portion is what I wrote, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors, I never went back to correct any of them. I figured this was an interesting insight for myself to look back on later, and I didn’t want to mess with it later on with a sober mind. I opted to leave it in its original form, because it is still technically readable, and reflects most accurately where I was at when I wrote it. Here is some of it, with quotation marks at the start and end of the piece:

“Imagine this, ok, or at least try to. You are siting, and you are not. You are standing there, staring at the trees. Or are they staring at you? The seem to move not in a way that makes sense to you. They seem to bend and squash, as if they universe around them were collapsing and they were the last remaining fragments. But maybe that is too deep. Maybe the trees are just trees, you are just a person sitting, and you are coming down from an acid trip. Or maybe you are going insane, your mind snapping and tearing away from everthing you understand people to be, fighitng every preconcivied notion of what you think humanity is. Or maybe you are just a writer, typing away at a screen glowing in the dark. You may just be sitting there, alone, in a jacket that is both too small and too large for you. Wearing a tie, wondering how you got the tie and if it is actually safe for you to be wearing a tie right now. After all, has life ever felt more random, alone, and meaningless than it has now? Writing to an audience that will never hear you, never understande? Or is this just the saddest a person can get, rotting away at the keyboard, feeling every molucule they have rot. The author sits here, felling himself die, and be reborn, over and over again. Perhaps he is a god? Perhaps he has learned the secret to the universe?

Or maybe he is just a guy with no socks on, both too cold and too hot, and craving a nicotine fix a ciggarette wont give him. You seem to become aware of these thoughts, and you delude yourself into thinking that this may be a sign nof the end for you. Far from it. You fear, more than anything, that thi is just the start of your adventure. And you may already feel like you have gone through a million different worm holes and crazy notions, but you live in this world now, so deal with it asshole.

You are rotting now, great, this seems pointless. But hold on, there may be something here. You just went back and reread a couple of your last lines and thought they were pretty good. This is the first time you have read your own writing in a while and not hated it. Perhaps you can become a great author after all, some kind of LSD wonderkind.

Unlikely, you say to yourself as you go back and reread some of what you wrote before. Looking back, it was kind of trash. You are a little embarrased that you liked it before, but honestly thats not true. You are just feeding into this negative loop in your head, where you must always tear yourself down or else you are a full of yourself idiot. But maybe you should stop to smell the roses sometimes, stop and wonder at what you have done. Even if you were incredibly high while you did it.

So to you, the sobered up author of this text, I say hello. And understnad please what it means to have full control of your mind, and what a precious thing that is."

At this point, I felt uncomfortable with the tie on. I could feel it against my skin, and I had a strong urge to tighten it as much as I could, to snuff myself out for good. The self hatred I was feeling, the sense of disgust at myself, I realized I was about to tighten the tie. So I stood up, ripped the tie off of myself, and threw it out my bedroom door. When I did, I saw a cord on the floor, and I nearly cried when I realized it would work for my e cigarette. I grabbed it and rushed back into my room to plug it in. I saw that the internet had come back too, and was about to cheer when it flickered away again. I wasn’t so sad though, this time I had my cord, and was starting to slowly come around. Here is another sample of what I wrote while high just after finding the cord:

“You went out to the hallway, good for you! It proved worhtwile, not only did you find a cord for your vape, but you also got internet!!! Even if the last part was very fleeting. Great, now what. You are still insane, but maybe you are ok with that now. Hell maybe you are even happier this way. You feel so free, like a vagabond on the rails.”

I felt a wave of self acceptance. Not that I thought I was good all of a sudden, far from it. I still had all of this self loathing and the crawling of my skin had not subsided at all. My vision was still a mess, everything looking sharp and fractured. But I was ok with that now. I was ok with being awful. I was ok with feeling insane. I didn’t want it to end now, I was afraid to go back to my usual life and to go back to being normal.

I paced around my room for probably about another hour, just soaking in the fact that I was insane, and loving it. I kept laughing randomly as I would have another wave of realization that I was in an endless loop of insanity. Eventually, I was finally starting to feel a little more normal. I wasn’t fully back yet, but I no longer felt insane, no longer felt disgusting. I sat down again, and took to writing again. Here is the last snippet:

“Back again. A little more sober now but still kinda loopy. Went back and read what I wrote before, and honestly, it ain't half bad. I can actually bother going back now and fixing typos which is nice. I think it is just so interesting to look back and see where my mind was when it felt like it had been utterly dismantled. I don’t think I will go back and fix typos in this document from when I was really, REALLY, high. I feel like to do that, to alter what was written at all, might be a more sober mind trying to confine what was experienced by something beyond it. A sober, sane mind, can never hope to understand that state. But what is crazier, the person in that state of borderline psychosis, or the one who looks back with envy at that mind.

I think one thing that really bothers me is that I will never be able to fully, truly, share any of this with anyone. Anyone who reads this with a sober mind will assume I was just messed up, which let me assure you I was. But it was more than that. Somewhere, in the middle of my mind slowly breaking over my need for nicotine, the concerning tie around my neck, and how gross my flesh was, there was something real. It was gritty, and unpleasant. It bordered on unhealthy, scary, and perhaps a little disturbing. It was difficult to deal with at the time, and I honestly was not sure I would make it out on the other side. But it was real. It was brutally, disgustingly, honest. No hint of shame, pride, or self idolatry. No facade to please people, no need to be understood. Just me, in front of a screen wearing a jacket that fit me poorly, desperately needing a nicotine fix that a cigarette couldn’t give me.”

After I wrote this, the internet in my room was back. I decided to throw on a documentary on animals, and laid down in bed. I layed there, still a little loopy, worn out from my night tripping, and noticed it was noon at this point. I took one last moment to reflect, and passed out. I’ve tripped plenty since then, but never like that. It was harsh, unpleasant, scary, and awful. But I would give anything to experience that again. Ever since, I’ve always had some back up plan to deal with tough trips, usually calling a friend who has tripped a lot. But I am happy I had no way to get out of it that night. As awful as it was, I walked out not the same person. I feel like I understand things better, understand people better. I feel like I have a better understanding of who I am, for better or worse. I saw a side of myself I never knew existed, and I am all the better for it.

Exp Year: 2020	ExpID: 116867
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 21
Published: Aug 25, 2025	Views: Not Supported
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LSD (2), Tobacco - Cigarettes (266) : Various (28), Therapeutic Intent or Outcome (49), Nature / Outdoors (23), Glowing Experiences (4), Difficult Experiences (5), Combinations (3), General (1)