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My first trip was admittedly ill-planned from the start because for some reason I had considered deciding that I was going to ingest mushrooms two days in advance all the "planning" I needed. I wound up eating a bit under an eighth which I wouldve expected to be completely manageable given my body mass index, et cetera. I ate them on a full stomach and had consumed almost zero vitamin c that morning. It all started when I walked down the road from my house (which is in a semi-rural area, sort of in the cracks between two suburbs) to a trail that leads from my neighborhood to a lagoon (havent done anything at this point) where I met the friend who was supplying me with the shrooms (which were actually mushroom chocolates). I scarfed them down without giving a second thought to what I was committing to at that moment and we started walking down a trail that would become one of the longest walks I have ever taken in my entire life (not in terms of planar distance, either). We found a little natural ditch to sit in and smoked a few bowls of sour diesel- until I had almost completely forgotten that I had taken the shrooms in the first place. We conversed about his bong and I told him how I felt he had given it a misnomer as a name. He had named the thing "Envy" and it didnt make any sense to me- it was a completely clear glass bong with an Ehrlenmeier style base. I had felt strongly that its name should have been more along the lines of "Mad Science" but thats hardly important to the story. From our little natural ditch we walked back down to the trail and started walking. I dont think we made it another hundred yards before the effects started to take hold. I very suddenly understood what people meant by patterns when I had heard them recount their experiences, and it was like nothing I could ever begin to put into words aside from the trite and tired words "patterns" or "visuals." We continued walking down the trail and conversing when I started feeling that there might have been something a bit off about my companion. He was so into the drugs that he had been taking in the last week (hes a raver, a stoner, and recreational day tripper... and to be completely honest I felt he was a little too into it. He sounded a little obsessed.) Then his topics got more difficult for me to handle, warfare, foreign affairs, etc. I wanted to grab him by the hair and tell him to shut up because I felt he was fucking up my trip. We had turned around at this point and were almost heading back to the trailhead. I had shut him out at this point and retreated back into my head to get away from the things he had been talking about, all the while trying to cause myself to view the world as I do when Im really stoned (kind of just viewing the world as if pressed up against the lenses of my eyes). It worked for the most part and then we walked through the wooded area that signified we were coming upon the trail exit. Thats when shit got real. I quickly decided I needed to lose my company and told him that I just needed to go home and be by myself for a while. He let me go and we went our separate ways although I could tell he was really concerned for my safety (I later apologized to him for "freaking out" even though I wasnt really, and I felt he had contributed to it). I made the walk home down the road that had seemed so familiar only about an hour and a half or two before. Everything seemed foreign although admittedly every light burned a bit brighter. The relief I felt when I got home was intense but short-lived. My paranoia quickly took hold of me. Every minute seemed to last an entire lifetime and I didnt know that it was only the beginning. The trip quickly began to feel bottomless and I holed up in my room. I felt a raging conflict between my senses and my conscience (a thought that hadnt even crossed my mind was that my girlfriend had left for college two days before that and I had kind of repressed the feelings). Suddenly I wanted to cry because I thought the tears would just feel good. The waterworks never came though. I watched Weeds for a bit and felt emotionally disconnected not just from the show but from humanity in general and it began to dawn on me that perhaps such a profound experience might have a permanent effect on my perceptions. I let myself vomit. It needed to happen. The physical and emotional poison was much diminished after emesis. I chose to turn off the lights and seek a temporary shelter in the sanctity of my shower and immediately wished that I could have stayed there to last out the rest of my trip. It was truly amazing- the visuals took off and I was no longer an irresponsible clout who had decided on a whim to ingest psychoactive mushrooms just to "trip balls," but instead the keeper of a sacred domain, a twilight world that had been beyond my wildest fantasy. The neons that revealed themselves to me made me gasp in awe and the long hair that framed my face was no longer hair but living vines that framed a picturesque scene of a forest pool where biodescent frogs and small woodland creatures gathered in the inverse twilight... Everything came in magnificent purples and greens and oranges and black. My trip had turned at last, I became dedicated to empathizing with everyone in my life. I dropped a line to people I hadnt talked to for a while. I was able to manage communication at this point and the people that I talked to couldnt tell I was high or anything unless I told them (I told a privileged few, mostly friends who had been through the experience before). I confided to them that I had psyched myself into a bad trip and how I had felt stupid and immature and doomed and received far more sympathy than I had expected. The come down I felt was too quick as I had just begun to understand what to do with myself and felt like I had unlocked an entirely new morality in which I felt like I no longer wanted to be alienated, on the contrary I wanted to be close to everyone.
I have but one regret and that is that I was never able to gaze at the stars while tripped out of my mind. Maybe next time.
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