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"I want it to end."

This is the tale of my first, and thusfar only, trip.



This is the tale of my first, and thusfar only, trip. First off, I am 19 and a pretty small guy, about 5'6'', 155 lbs or so, and I had no experience with drugs, save for alcohol. My best friend and I planned this trip for sometime, in order to philosophize. The days beforehand, I spent reading Huxley's "Doors of Perception", an essay on mescalin, and some random essays by Emerson on metaphysics.

The day we tripped, I took two caps and three stems with a sandwich, and drank a glass of juice (I guess vitamin C enhances the trip or something). We then went on a nature walk in this park that I had never been to. At first I didn't really notice anything happening. Looking back on it, I realize that I had a bit of a body high, and my thoughts started to become weird. I thought that the substance I was made of was tiredness. I heard a praying mantis and thought he was screeching out of tiredness and boredom of life. I saw a bunch of trees and thought about what it would be like to stand against the wind for so long.

After about three miles, we sat at a bench. This was when I knew the shrooms kicked in. I was almost unable to get up. I had fits of laughter and thought about a bunch of different weird things. I became unable to follow conversation with my friend, and found language to be useless. I couldn't explain the stories and trips I was having in my mind. I reflected on existentialist theories of despair (I'm sure glad I didn't read any Sartre or Kirkegaard before the trip), and I thought that I had stared freedom in the face and it bent me to insanity. I laughed and cried at the same time, and kept coming back around to the realization that I was mad. We laughed about some things, and everything looked really tight, but I still felt insane. Things looked like I was in a movie, very dramatic and slowed down, and closer up. Trees and clouds were especially tight, and I still see them that way to this day.

Later on, it got worse. I lost my grips on reality. I kept asking "What are we doing here?" By this time our trip-sitter showed up and he said we were just relaxing. I was displeased with this answer, but I didn't know why or even what I meant. I just could not understand the purpose of being there, or working, or doing anything at all. Life became meaningless (perhaps influenced by my obsessions with existentialism). I got sick and threw up. Things became even more insane, and I couldn't wait for my trip to end. I thought I had gone crazy, then I couldn't figure out when it began, and decided that maybe I was always like that. I couldn't imagine facing my mom, or anybody save for the two guys with me, and I felt the need to confess all my sins (though I couldn't name any and am not religious). I needed to confess and be forgiven and consoled, but I felt there was no one who could console me. I was alone, and insane. Eventually my friends talked me out of it a little. They described to me how I felt (without me telling them), and said that it was the paranoia in my own mind. I got a little better, we got in my car to listen to some Jack Johnson, and the familiarity made things a little better.

The next two nights I could not sleep at all, in fear of going back to that place of insanity and paranoia, that place of dread, but I got over it in less than a week. It was mostly in my head; I was not well prepared enough, and I didn't know what I was in for. I am thinking of tripping again sometime, but reading more Eastern philosophy first, like the Tao Te Ching. I guess that's about it--I would definitely recommend shrooms as a spiritual experience. Keep in mind that I am a philosopher, not a visual person at all, so a lot of you will probably have much different trips than I did. The thing is, just relax and let it take you where it will. Be prepared for a trip, and try to stay calm. Have fun!
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