a disturbed experience (and a warning/suggestion to drug mixers!)

The first time I tripped on shrooms, I had an unbelievably positive experience. I found it much less stressful than weed (which tends to give me anxiety of many kinds). I felt happy and goofy. I smoked a bit of weed near the end of the trip and had experience on the brink of ego death. For this alone I would recommend shrooms to anyone.

The second time, the trip turned quite sour, but as always seems to be the case, not without good reason...

I do not believe my mindset was particularly unsettled the day prior to the trip, but I certianly wasn't of the ideal stable happiness variety. As the trip began to run uphill, a friend and I took some bong hits of tobacco and weed. This was not smart. Tobacco has a very strong affect on me, and its combination with weed can create a shakey, volatile experience. Adding to this the vaulting abilities of shrooms, I should have known better. However, this only created an unstable equilibrium, the true spark of the bad trip was actually the topic of conversation at the time.

We began discussing the nature of introversion and extroversion, I began to recall very vividly my first introductions to the subject through a illustrated book, back when I was at a young age. It depicts a party with the people all appearing as shadows through a window. In the corner there is a "introspect" sitting alone in a chair, the many "extroverts" on the other side. The text of the book was something to effect of, "the introvert is characterized by a constant struggle to assess the effect his words and actions are having upon the people around him, combined with the simultaneous task of concieving of said words and actions. He is frustrated with his inability to flawlessly perform these two tasks at once. The extrovert would not be able to relate to this struggle, as he performs these tasks in a subconscious manner. The introvert is constantly striving to be the extrovert, and this very striving serves to add to the mental strain which frustrates him. The extrovert is simply content with who he is." The vivid recollection of these memories combined with what my mind was telling itself (thanks to the insight shrooms provides), forced me to conclude that I (and further, my mind) was doomed to be forever the introvert and his perpetual struggle.

The line of thoughts bringing me to this conclusion, chained together by reason, began to become more and more solidified in my mind as I left my friends room and moved to the couch. I began to become caught in the endless loop of denying a seemingly well proven fact to myself. "But it can't be, but it is, but it can't be, but it is..." so on and so forth. At this point, my vision became darker, in strange bands of alternating gradient(light to dark:top to bottom, approx 10 bands). It was reminiscent of the flickering bands you can sometimes notice on a monitor. I was certianly unsettled but not disturbed. Unfortunately, my friend, noticing my distress, asked with the best of intentions "is something wrong?"

The question forced my mind to accept the reality it was trying whole-heartedly to run away from; after a moments hesitation I responded..."Yes." After that moment everything began to escalate in a dizzying fashion. I got up to try and find solace in the solitude of the bathroom, on the way their I was presented by the menacing howl of a newly bowling tea kettle, standing representative of the shroom tea i was supposedly about to consume, as well as my current state. This marks the begining of deeply rattling auditory hallucinations, when I made it to the bathroom the world started spinning and I was shaking uncontrallably as it sounded like the bowels of the demon world unleashed itself in the air around me. I felt as if I were constantly falling over as I spun about the increasingly darkened room, I lost sense of direction and orientation, just as I had lost connection with the self the mirror had presented before I lost sight of it too. To me, an enternity passes, and I snap to awakedness with two hands firmly gripping the countertop, soaked in sweat.

I reenter the the outside world and explain to my concerned friends that I am alright, despite the clatter they certianly heard. Noting the existence of the afforementioned sweat, I decide to take a shower. The rythym of the falling water becomes the basis for a grand and wide symphony in my head, still so dark and evil as to nearly overwhelm, but I held my self together with pure force of awe at the music my brain was in part producing.

I felt broken and scattered for a few days afterwards. I value the experience greatly, and I know that I will someday trip on shrooms again.