aLinkToTheAss
Bluelighter
Before knowing I was about to have the most mind shattering tryptamine experience of my life I had set out to find something completely different. At night I had been having dreams of taking a drug I've never actually had, and they were giving me an incredible urge to seek out what is currently regarded as one of the worst decisions you could ever make. In a desperate effort to find a moment of peace in a very unpleasent part of my life I had tasked myself with finding heroin.
What really bothers me about this is that after the experience I'm about to disclose is that I still tried heroin. Please do not try this drug. After only one time for the next few days I had a craving for it so bad I couldn't stop scratching myself, and couldn't get any sleep. I originally wanted to take it monthly, but realized that it's simply not worth being enveloped in a monomaniacal desire for more. And even though I realized how not worth anyone's time heroin is I still plan on taking it again someday.
Upon arriving at my town's weekly druggy gathering I was far too embarassed to ask around for heroin, so I decided to look for ketamine, and ask a ketamine dealer if he knew where to get some heroin. I later found that you can find heroin by asking most bums where to get it. Unfortunately I was unable to find a ketamine dealer that week. But what I did find was someone offering me a mostly empty vial of LSD for my adorable pineapple socks. My socks were quite amazing, so we came to an agreement of $40 for the rest of the vial instead.
I don't really know exactly how much was in the vial. I carefully counted like 5 hits, got bored, and and carelessly squirted the rest under my tounge. By the feel of how much liquid was there, he was probably lowballing it when he estimated 11 hits. It burned a fair bit, as it was probably disolved in alcohol. Also had a sweet taste to it, which I asume was because it was a little impure. Or maybe thats just what acid tastes like, when you take that much.
Within 5 minuets I felt like I had taken a couple of tabs 30 minuets ago. At this point I was getting so high so fast that my only goal was to quickly grab an ice cream, and to get to my friends house. Thankfully I'm not quite dumb enough do something like this by myself. In about 15 minutes I make it to her door, and it looked like it was crawling and changing colors. This was similar to the peak of high dose acid trip, and it had not even been 30 minuets since I had dosed. It was here that I realized just how hard I was about to trip, and Julia began laughing at my inability to do anything but stare at the floor, and babel incoherently.
Julia's house always made me uncomfortable. She says it's because it's haunted, and that might have something to do with the absolutely creepy vibes of the place. But mostly I think it's because I get really sad for the difficult lifes of her and her mother. Not a good place to trip at all, but better than risking running into the road naked. So far I was still having a lot of fun, despite the creepy vibes. It wasn't until I began conversing with her cat that shit hit the fan.
The level of amazement I experienced while interacting with her cat (named magic) was impressive. That creature was, as far as I was concerned, the most fascinating thing in the universe. I belived it to be smarter than me, and eagerly awaited it's divine guidance. Eventually it got bored, and left the room. My response was to think "GOD HAS FORSAKEN ME!". Overkill, but completely accurate. In desperation I attempted to achieve enlightenment in order to become my own god; this was what I thought the cat was trying to teach me. This attempt at enlightenment appeared to onlookers as a crazy bitch grabbing at a florescent lamp.
In my inebriated state the light from the lamp appeared technicolor, and ineffibly vibrant. Turing it off and on repeatedly, I had lost count of how many time I turned it on. However, I realized that having lost count I turned it on at least twice, and at most a hundred or so, given the time I had been playing with it. From this point I began obsessing over the amount of alternate realities that grow exponentially with every passing second, and thought the lightbulb was a metaphore sent by the gods to help me visualize how events grow increasingly less reliant on a singular moment the further they are from that moment. And for some reason I also thought that I had accidentally scatered fragments of probability (whatever the fuck that's suposed to mean) throughout Julia's house.
The indeterminate nature of these fragments insured that in order to pick up all of them, you needed to pick up all of them in every alternate reality related to them. This would still technically be a finite number of them, but an exceedingly large finite number that increases every second we aren't recording my interactions with the light. Obviously this made no sense, as in real life recordings aren't 100% reliable. Just kidding! None of this made any sense at all!
My insanity levels had gone off the charts when I thought Julia had to pick up all the pieces, and that my selfish curiosity and impatience had doomed her to lifetimes of cleaning up my mistakes. Every time I began complaining about how horrible I felt I realized that it was meaningless to her, given the disproportionate weights of our burdens. Rest assured that in reality the only pain I actually caused anyone that night was the semi-tolerable irritation induced by my nonsense.
For hours I lamented In mistakes I never made, and saw abhorrent visions to accompany my delusional thoughts. I can't imagine experiencing something more emotionally taxing that isn't physically dangerous. I was convinced I was pure evil, and experienced the guilt of horrendous atrocities I never commited. When I finnaly came to my senses I realized this experience was designed to show me what I would be doing to my friends and family if I became a heroin addict.
This trip produced enough tears to salt a large serving of McDonald's french fries. But on a more serious note I compleatly ignored everything that happened that night, and tried heroin anyway. I'm not an evil person, but I will admit that there was a borderline evil amount of selfishness in making that decision.
Thanks so much for reading!
What really bothers me about this is that after the experience I'm about to disclose is that I still tried heroin. Please do not try this drug. After only one time for the next few days I had a craving for it so bad I couldn't stop scratching myself, and couldn't get any sleep. I originally wanted to take it monthly, but realized that it's simply not worth being enveloped in a monomaniacal desire for more. And even though I realized how not worth anyone's time heroin is I still plan on taking it again someday.
Upon arriving at my town's weekly druggy gathering I was far too embarassed to ask around for heroin, so I decided to look for ketamine, and ask a ketamine dealer if he knew where to get some heroin. I later found that you can find heroin by asking most bums where to get it. Unfortunately I was unable to find a ketamine dealer that week. But what I did find was someone offering me a mostly empty vial of LSD for my adorable pineapple socks. My socks were quite amazing, so we came to an agreement of $40 for the rest of the vial instead.
I don't really know exactly how much was in the vial. I carefully counted like 5 hits, got bored, and and carelessly squirted the rest under my tounge. By the feel of how much liquid was there, he was probably lowballing it when he estimated 11 hits. It burned a fair bit, as it was probably disolved in alcohol. Also had a sweet taste to it, which I asume was because it was a little impure. Or maybe thats just what acid tastes like, when you take that much.
Within 5 minuets I felt like I had taken a couple of tabs 30 minuets ago. At this point I was getting so high so fast that my only goal was to quickly grab an ice cream, and to get to my friends house. Thankfully I'm not quite dumb enough do something like this by myself. In about 15 minutes I make it to her door, and it looked like it was crawling and changing colors. This was similar to the peak of high dose acid trip, and it had not even been 30 minuets since I had dosed. It was here that I realized just how hard I was about to trip, and Julia began laughing at my inability to do anything but stare at the floor, and babel incoherently.
Julia's house always made me uncomfortable. She says it's because it's haunted, and that might have something to do with the absolutely creepy vibes of the place. But mostly I think it's because I get really sad for the difficult lifes of her and her mother. Not a good place to trip at all, but better than risking running into the road naked. So far I was still having a lot of fun, despite the creepy vibes. It wasn't until I began conversing with her cat that shit hit the fan.
The level of amazement I experienced while interacting with her cat (named magic) was impressive. That creature was, as far as I was concerned, the most fascinating thing in the universe. I belived it to be smarter than me, and eagerly awaited it's divine guidance. Eventually it got bored, and left the room. My response was to think "GOD HAS FORSAKEN ME!". Overkill, but completely accurate. In desperation I attempted to achieve enlightenment in order to become my own god; this was what I thought the cat was trying to teach me. This attempt at enlightenment appeared to onlookers as a crazy bitch grabbing at a florescent lamp.
In my inebriated state the light from the lamp appeared technicolor, and ineffibly vibrant. Turing it off and on repeatedly, I had lost count of how many time I turned it on. However, I realized that having lost count I turned it on at least twice, and at most a hundred or so, given the time I had been playing with it. From this point I began obsessing over the amount of alternate realities that grow exponentially with every passing second, and thought the lightbulb was a metaphore sent by the gods to help me visualize how events grow increasingly less reliant on a singular moment the further they are from that moment. And for some reason I also thought that I had accidentally scatered fragments of probability (whatever the fuck that's suposed to mean) throughout Julia's house.
The indeterminate nature of these fragments insured that in order to pick up all of them, you needed to pick up all of them in every alternate reality related to them. This would still technically be a finite number of them, but an exceedingly large finite number that increases every second we aren't recording my interactions with the light. Obviously this made no sense, as in real life recordings aren't 100% reliable. Just kidding! None of this made any sense at all!
My insanity levels had gone off the charts when I thought Julia had to pick up all the pieces, and that my selfish curiosity and impatience had doomed her to lifetimes of cleaning up my mistakes. Every time I began complaining about how horrible I felt I realized that it was meaningless to her, given the disproportionate weights of our burdens. Rest assured that in reality the only pain I actually caused anyone that night was the semi-tolerable irritation induced by my nonsense.
For hours I lamented In mistakes I never made, and saw abhorrent visions to accompany my delusional thoughts. I can't imagine experiencing something more emotionally taxing that isn't physically dangerous. I was convinced I was pure evil, and experienced the guilt of horrendous atrocities I never commited. When I finnaly came to my senses I realized this experience was designed to show me what I would be doing to my friends and family if I became a heroin addict.
This trip produced enough tears to salt a large serving of McDonald's french fries. But on a more serious note I compleatly ignored everything that happened that night, and tried heroin anyway. I'm not an evil person, but I will admit that there was a borderline evil amount of selfishness in making that decision.
Thanks so much for reading!
Last edited:
