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MDMA - My First Psychedelic Experience (NOW FINISHED)

Love, Energy, Connection, and a Hangover from Hell

 This past weekend I was lucky enough not only to go see one of my favorite bands with a few close friends, but to enjoy my first MDMA experience. As the hangover fades, one aspect of the experience seems to be with me for good - the urge to share my story with others who share my newfound love for MDMA.

We arrived at the show a bit on the early side, planning to mingle for a bit then head out to the car to smoke a few bowls. Upon entry it became clear that these hardcore fans had chosen to come to the party well-toasted, so to speak. The opening band had hardly begun as men with dreadlocks danced wildly about, screaming for Bisco at the top of their lungs. Unable to bear our awkward sobriety any longer, we began to make our way out only to find that the venue had a strict policy of no re-entry. The crowd was sparse and security was looming, so sparking a bowl indoors was not an option. Though I am rarely a fan of alchohol for concert-type settings, I felt as though I desperately needed to loosen up. In a matter of minutes I downed two strong vodka cocktails and half a beer. It should be noted I had eaten hardly anything that particular day, and had lost quite a bit of weight over the past two weeks, in addition to my being a generally small person to begin with. By this time Bisco was on and the crowd had filled in enough that it was possible to sneak in a quick bowl in the shelter of more condensed areas. About two hours in a young man in front of me whom I had been conversing with earlier asked if my pals and I would like to buy some Molly. I jumped on the offer, piecing together just enough cash to buy a half gram. Each of my four friends took a pinky dip from the tiny plastic bag. The powder itself was relatively fine, pinkish white or light pink in color (though it could have been white and appeared pink from the lights). I do not recall there being any crystals, though I was already quite intoxicated at the time, so a few details may have slipped my mind. I decided to take two pinky-dips of the bitter tasting powder myself.

While the most prominent effects of the marijuana had worn off, I look back now and realize that my perception of time was still quite distorted. What had been five minutes since my initial dose seemed like forty, and in a drunken state of impatience I downed the rest of the half-gram. To this day I am not entirely sure of my exact doseage, but I feel as if I can confidently guess that it was a bit much for my first time, especially for someone of my experience (having previously experimented only with marijuana and oxycodone). My only regret of the evening was that I was not sober when I first took the Molly, not only in that I most likely would have made a wiser decision about my doseage, but in that I may have noticed some of the less prominent aspects of coming up on the drug I ended up overlooking in my stamour. Nevertheless, all this failed to concern me as I turned my thoughts elsewhere and continued to sociallize as before.

I began to feel effects at approximately the 20 minute mark, around 11:30 or so. The lead guitarist had just slipped into an entrancing solo, driving the crowd wild. The high-pitched screams of his guitar suddenly attained a mutated deepness, almost as though underwater. Each powerful thud of the base exploded throughout the room, as if we were in a balloon filling with air. I scanned my surroundings; everything - the walls, the stage, the ceiling - was physically just the same as it had been moments ago, yet completely and irrevocably different in some invisible and indescribeable way. The neon lights that leaped from every direction seemed more distinct, brighter - they themselves had personified, established their dominance over each and every one of us like guardian angels, constantly watching, monitoring. Each heavenly sound slithered from the stage, blossoming through my feet and exploding throughout my entire being. I was suddenly overcome by a powerful burst of energy from somewhere deep inside my chest, like no energy I have ever experienced before - it was as though I were coming up rapidly on a high dose of Adderall, but different in that it was channeled in no specific direction - this energy exploded from my every pore. Not much of a dancer, I threw every trace of awkward constriction to the wind, convulsing wildly to the most beautiful music I had ever been blessed enough to hear. I beamed as I ran my fingers through my hair, taken aback by the beauty in something as simple as one's sense of touch. I soon became quite hot, though just moments ago we were complaining about how freezing the room had been. I scanned the crowd - each and every stranger's face glowed its own aura of strange familiarity, as if we had established some type of silent friendship, through nothing more than pure love for music and the moment in which we were living.

I was relieved at the chance to get a drink of water when the band took a brief intermission. Walking, though I was far from exhausted, had become a bit of a chore, and I recall myself wishing I could simply dance from place to place. I downed nearly an entire bottle in one sip before we made our way back to our spot just in time for Bisco's return. I flung my hands into the air in cheer as the lights dimmed and they broke into one of my favorite songs, my phone slipping from my sweaty palm into the abyss. I tore myself from dancing for just a moment to retrieve it, looking down to scan the floor - I believe this is when I hit my peak, as well as the realization that I had most likely dosed too high. I entered a state of temporary shock as I turned my chin downward to look to the ground. My head seemed to tilt through my neck and turn an entire 360, as all the weight in my body seemed to collide just behind my nasal cavity. When I finally refocused and regained my vision, it came to my attention that my feet were seemingly miles further away than they had been before. The music and screaming faded out of focus as the sound of my pounding heartbeat rocked every inch of my body, nearly throwing me off balance as I steadied my hands on my knees. I could feel the hot blood pulsing through my every vein, as each breath grew louder and harsher than the last. An orgasmic tingling leaked throughout my every cell, saturating my every inch in the most overwhelming body high one could ever imagine. So pleasureable, in fact, that it was at this point I became sure that at some point throughout the course of the evening, I would most likely die. After all, such a sensation must be life's ultimate goal, and now that this goal had been reached, life had no reason to let me go on. However, my seemingly guaranteed demise failed to concern me in the least - my only worry was that my mother would be embarassed at my poor judgement. In fact, the fact that I had reached life's ultimate goal with such ease brought me great satisfaction, sending a cocky smirk across my face. My body was exhausted, no doubt - I felt faint as though I had eaten nothing for days - but I was unable to stand still, that same pulsing ball of energy growing with the music's every irresistable beat. This energy was so overpowering, in fact, that simple tasks became overwhelming - my body was unable to keep up with my mind, as heartbeat and dance step overlapped each other, one always a step ahead of the next. Snapping back into "reality", I scolded myself for worrying so much and broke into a playful dance-off with an adjacent stranger. Some people say Ecstacy overwhelms then with happiness; my permanent grin was more than that due to the fact that for the first time in my life, I found myself completely and utterly care-free. I had hardly forgotten about any of the issues that tear at my conscience from day to day - if anything, they were brought to the forefront - but for once I was able to face them, take in every aspect, and throw them away in assuring myself that no matter what transpired, everything would turn out more or less okay. I was torn from my fantasy world by a text from our designated driver, asking that we come outside. My pals and I regrouped and began our trek to the front doors. I found myself apologizing profusely to every stranger I bumped into - not out of guilt, simply out of admiration and a desire for them to have a good time.

By the time we had stumbled out to the car, it had been about two hours since we took the Molly. Most of my buddies floated on the back end of a steady plateau, a few beginning to softly come down. I feared a similar fate would soon befall me as the touch of the smooth leather against my hands sent ripples of pleasure throughout. The air conditioning felt nothing short of heavenly on my burning skin as I lay down in the back seat, basking in the soft lull of the radio.

It wasn't until we arrived home that I realized how hard I was rolling. I stumbled to the mirror to discover my shaking pupils had devoured nearly my entire eye. Still riddled with energy, I chugged an entire liter of ginger-ale and took two melatonin (sleeping aid) in hopes of falling asleep. The same amount of melatonin that usually knocks me out in a matter of minutes held no effect on me whatsoever. I lay in bed running my feet along the walls and rolling about. Finally, unable to hold still a moment longer, I scrambled downstairs, where I lay on the cold tile floor, pressing the Ipod speaker to my ear at full-blast. The energy was now nearly unbearable. It was as if I were being shaken by the Devil himself. I could not even begin to fathom at how I could release the electricy raging within me, so debilitating I could hardly walk. I scrambled into the living room to find one of my pals still awake. Pacing the length of the well, we discussed what an amazing night it had been, and how every person there had become a part of a family that we would never let go of.

Though several attempts were made, I never really fell asleep that night. At about 5 30 I was able to drift off into what seemed to be a half-sleep for nearly an hour. I awoke in a clammy sweat. I was completely drained, as if every cell in my body was hanging onto life by a thread. My throat was nearly swollen shut. Sores lined the inside of my mouth and tounge, and my sinuses were completely full. My neck and jaw ached, and I spiked a fever soon thereafter. I had licked my lips raw and chewed each nail to the nub. The next morning I woke to drastically worse cold and fever symptoms. I was so emotionally drained, in fact, that at one point, trying to open a box of batter, I became so weak and discouraged I was physically unable to do so, and fell in a tearful heap to the kitchen floor.

As I lay here reminiscing, I can feel myself heal with each hour of rest that passes. An unpleasant hangover is the least I could suffer through for such a mind-blowing experience, and to this day I have no regrets. As other symptoms fade, one thing that sticks with me is a whole new perspective on what it truly means to be part of the human race. No matter how we vary, we are nothing more than a community. Ecstacy opened that door for me, and that is one aspect of my evening I hope will never fade.
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