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Real, actual, true??

Saturday was my first time every using an MAOI.



Saturday was my first time every using an MAOI. unfortunetly, that sounds very fake, like a chemical, when in fact, Syrien Rue is nothing like an artificial additive, but a sacred seed used to induce monstrous trips. Anyways, this is a shortened and edited version, as this was far more personal then I would share, even as annonymusly.

My friend Jason, a good partner in crime, and a new follower of higher intelligence seeken with the fruit of the gods. We had gotten about 2grams of some Amanita's, a dark orange cap and an almost dark purple stem, which had us slightly winded. We had purchase some Syrien Rue, and had ground up the seeds into some small gel tabs, and taken them. About 6 grams each, of the sick powder. We were told to be careful, as this stuff can touble your trip, or even triple it, and we had taken a big chance with even more then a half eighth, but we had cofidence, as we had entered the Nth Dimentsion many a times.

I had just eaten the fruit of the god a mere 20 minutes ago, and as we sat on our meditating pillows, the Salvia Divinorum incense burning, a small joint christened as the start of our adventure, we muttered out softly a prayer, asking for a fun safe trip, unsure of what awaited us. I closed my eyes, but the sight in front of me did not disapear. I was very stunned, and tried to close my eyes again. The image staid burned, and I thought somehow my eyes were stuff, but I waved my hand in front of me, and saw it glide by slowly, as if through a filter.

Getting a little worried, but remembering to stay positive, I said something to J, who looked over, but did not seem like he had heard me, it was just a coincendence that he had glanced over. I had shroomed I reminded myself, I had done this before, many times, just chill, your overeacting. I had this surging feeling that something bad was going to happen, like bad. Then, it came so hard I let out a whimper. I got very scared, and my stomach plumeted downwards while the contents of my stomach decided to skyrocket up, and I made it to the trash can barely in time. The purge made me feel 10 times worse, and I feel down clutching my stomach, and I looked up to see J stumbling towards his bookshelf, where is bong and shotglass collection lay. I screamed, and he crashed into it, and the tettering 3 foot $400 handblown bong in slow motion started to fall and my sick feeling was so horrible I thought I might just stop living. The bong shattered, sending glass over me, and after the mayhem ended, I opened my eyes. I fealt fine, no more tripping, no more bad feeling, only the faint smell of vomit encircled me.

I got up and shuttered, being careful not to step on glass. I walked downstairs, shooken. I had fealt like that only once, and it ended in overdosing. I sat down and turned on the TV. I jumped at what I was looking at. The TV was on, and I could hear some background music, but the main character, was none other then me. I gasped, and walked to the TV, and stuck my hand to feel it, almost expecting for my hand to go through, but it hit the glass hard. I stared, and moved my hand, and realized it must be the after affects of the shrooms, the reflection magnatized. But I had the faint feeling of being watched wherever I went. Then it hit me, where was J. I wandered around, slightly dazed, not sure what to do. His car was here, yet he was not. I finally stumbled down, feeling a little queesy, and looked into the garage. It was open, a bike missing. Better go look for him, he's probably still tripping. I fealt the mild sickness and told it to shove off, and it did.

I had a sudden invigorating feeling when I told the sickness to shove off. It came back suddenly, hard this time, and I gagged. I got pissed now, and I raised my voice and told it to fuck off, and it shuddered away, and I fealt stronger. Then, my I had a bad feeling I had made a mistake, and I saw it. It was a distortion in space, like an invisible thing, relfecting space. It came zooming at me and hit me full force in the head. I screamed so loud it hurt my own ears, but not as much as the headache and sickness I fealt. I screamed in pain, wriggling in agony. No words explained the pain. What was going on, what was happening. My trip had stopped, what was this. I then, with a voice in my ear, telling me to fight, I struggled to my knee, and with all my voice and strength, I stood up and yelled, screamed, for this aura to go, as far away as it could, or I would hang it out on the street and beat on it, run over it, shoot it, cut it, do ever possible gruesome thing possible to it.

It was gone, in that moment. I was wet with sweat, scared, shivering, but, I fealt a smile cross my face. I had just fought, with something, and had won. I smiled again, and wiped the tears from my eyes, and got on a bike and pedaled out. Then, like a reward from someone, I was given my trip back, if you will. The sudden feeling of not being able to wipe my huge smile of my smirking face, was overpowering, and I looked at the red Porsche parked to my side, and it seemed to be made of water. I touched it, and it glistened and rippled, like a mirror of mercury. I laid my face against it, and the cold feeling was like a wake up shower.
That what when the sound hit me full force. A wailing siren. I had upset it, and I fled, without bike or dignity, which I soon gained back, the mercury car from from my memory. I walked on, inspecting everything I could find. My hands seemed, new to me. They didn't work quite right, but instead the feeling newness, made me even happier. I gazed at the speeding masses of metal and machined which flew past me, wondering what would happen if I was hit by one. Might I be released from this primitive form of shelter? Why had whoever brought me here, picked me a suit made of skin, which could be ripped and cut, whose heart and organs could stop if not nurtured right, whose minds were so primitive for me to think right. Everything was downsized, not able to look at the whole picture. I decided to walk on, and came upon a street. It had less cars, and I wondered why. Maybe this street wasn't liked, how sad. All streets should be treated equally, they had feelings also. The thought that streets had feelings was licked and gulped by my brain, and I realized it was so hard to accept because of my primitive brain had so many morals and couldn't accept this. Didn't it realize we all had feelings? No, streets aren't alive, but wait, HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!

Alive? Dead? Speak? They are words. How primitive are these minds? They can communicate only in words!!!!! They say they communicate with feel or touch, but wait, are they so primitive and ignorant to see the "feel" or "touch", are really words to explain something they cannot grasp? They cannot Grok it. Are they really so primitive and childish? But, my heart sank when i realized I couldn't communicate without words in this shelter, this host. So, the streets weren't alive, alive was just a word to give more words which explained more words which explained more words which explained more words, etc etc. Jesus, I said, and realized what I had said but thought it was stupid to pursue.

How could these, "people" think they are so advanced, when they can't even communicate with- I can't even explain, because our thoughts are words, as are feelings, as is everything. everything that is, is a word, is. Was I sent to help them? How could I if I was not at home, not able to "_____". Damn, I couldn't "____" it. well, might as well deal with it, and I continued up the silent street to a large park. It seemed vaguely familiar, and I was intrigued and dove into my host's mind, which told me he had smoked and shroomed here many times. It was scary at dark, and words like, scary, loud, silent, dead, dark, void popped into his head. Hmm. He has had mosly bad times here, times of paranoia, of fright, but one time he had a good time. A glass mirror, un able to penatrate, broke, happy. I was confused by his broken thought and exited and looked around me.

My vision was not set for this, kind of whatever. I had not fully accepted my host, as I was still seeing this dimension, and my other dimension, and I thought I recognized "_____" from yet another dimension. I reached for the ground to touch something which disapeared and left a deep depression. I fealt it and sudden joy came to me. Excited, accepting my host, accepting being primitive, accepting the new, joy?!? The feeling was incredible, different. I fealt the depression, and realized it was a depression in space, left from an object from another dimension. How odd. I carressed it with my unsure fingers and let out a whimper of delight. What was this? I had was touching the esscence of another dimension? Was this possible?

That was when I realized I was more and more, human. I was accepting my host, and my heart sank. I was excited though, wanted to experience more. I was torn, and with a sudden jolt, I ran. I stumbled and fell twice, feeling pain, which was odd for, me!? I got to where my host was centered, and burst in. I found what I wanted, a mirror. I looked, and saw a face unfamiliar to me. My host? Me? It was Me? The face was wavering, changing, coming more etched and hard and personal, until i realized I had made my choice, and I collapsed, remembering faint pain in my head until everything was black.

When I awoke, I was on my back in my bathroom. The memory of whatever had just happened, was still fresh in my head, and in an instant I remembered what I must do. I dashed to my desk, despite the awesome pain and the feeling of warm blood dribbling down from various places. I took a pen, and with a mad man's expression, wrote it all down.

And hour later, sure I had gotten everything, I checked myself. A cut and bump on the head, some scraped elbows and knee's and hands, and a strange bruise. I looked at it, on my stomach. It almost reminded me of something, but I still know not what it is.

I am back, and I am wondering. Is this a 5? A 6? A 4? All numbers with words to explain. Words made to take the place of something we cannot explain. I ask you, to rate yes, but to think about why we have words. There must be other ways to communicate.
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