phoenixrain88
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jun 7, 2008
- Messages
- 81
I ground up six Hawaiian Baby Woodrose Bush seeds in a coffee grinder and added them to a mug of yerba mate tea -- an MAOI, I now know. I only ended up swallowing two or so of the seeds, the rest of the residue clinging to the bottom of the mug, too fucking nasty to scrape up and eat. About an hour prior, I had taken an l-tryptophan capsule.
The come-up was thrilling. My head was utterly clear of thoughts and energy filled me. I put on music and did a dance-yoga combination. My pupils expanded to practically eclipse the irises. Intermittently I wrote the beginning of a story, about 1,000 words. The story, when read by the sober eye, has promise but was written pretty sloppily.
My heartrate began to increase and become irregular, but this happens with almost any drug I take, so I paid it no mind. Taking a drug is really just ingesting some quantity of poison, hopefully insufficient to kill, in order to change the subjective experience temporarily, the details of such change mostly being forgotten in the aftermath. Point being, I'm used to my heart going a little crazy when I drink or smoke weed or take any other kind of drug, so I paid my heart no mind.
I talked on the phone for about an hour after that first hour of come-up in which I did dance-yoga. My imagination was incredibly stimulated. I looked around and my mind saw patterns in the arrangement of everyday objects. Anyone's imagination is capable of uch flights at any time, but most people are too fucking boring and self-absorbed to bother having that sort of fun, including me some of the time. I was paranoid at times, but I focused on breathing slowly and deeply.
Part of the way through my phone conversation, my words began slurring and I began seeing double. However, I ignored these symptoms at first. Once I had gotten off the phone, I could barely even walk. My neck was swollen to the touch and my head was pounding. I couldn't see straight or think straight or speak. My heart pounded faster and faster. I kept on grinning, feeling little anxiety, but dimly aware that I was becoming really, really ill. My stomach was tying itself into knots.
I did not go to sleep because it dawned on me that I might not wake up. My heart had begun feeling as though needles were being driven into it over and over again.
Then I heard the TV come on upstairs and I went up to see who it was. It was my younger brother. I spoke to him with great enthusiasm and vigor, thoughts racing from my imagination. My brother offered me some headies weed but I declined. Fuck that. Weed and acid were what gave me my first panic attack, and weed and LSA were what first started me hearing voices, which recurred for months afterward whenever I smoked weed, and still happens sometimes. The voices are moody. They will sometimes engage me in conversation, and sometimes cause horrible physical distress.
Even though I didn't smoke the weed, about an hour after my brother had gone up, a horrible set of voices began talking to me in my head.
"Yemteddy," one of them said. This meant, All of your coping mechanisms will come to nothing. If you are dying, you are dying no matter how you breathe or how positively you try to think. I am going to kill you because you are throwing your life away.
"Welmskiddle," another of them said. I do not quite remember what that means. Yemteddy and welmskiddle, repeating over and over again, a feeling like a cheese grater in my brain, a feeling like too much blood was rushing to parts of my brain and not enough blood to others, the voices whispering in the most horrible and sneering and contemptful tones. Pings and whirs and hums in my head. A horrible song, the tune of which I cannot remember and which I hope I never hear again -- I am getting goosebumps as I type this -- engulfed my skull and pain began racing up and down my arms. I could not get up out of the bed. All I could do was grind and gnash my teeth.
And then the experience stopped. I cannot say how long it lasted. I have slept the entire day away and I still feel weak and toxic. I'm throwing away the rest of my seeds, throwing away my b. caapi vines (MAOI's have just too many potentially toxic interactions to be worth the risk). Fuck drugs, fuck hearing voices, fuck poisoning myself through unpredictable interactions of chemicals not meant to be present within the human body.
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_hbwr
substancecode_lsa
substancecode_lysergamides
substancecode_ilexparaguariensis
substancecode_ethnobotanicals
_combo_
explevel_firsttime
exptype_negative
exptype_bodyload
exptype_difficult
roacode_oral
The come-up was thrilling. My head was utterly clear of thoughts and energy filled me. I put on music and did a dance-yoga combination. My pupils expanded to practically eclipse the irises. Intermittently I wrote the beginning of a story, about 1,000 words. The story, when read by the sober eye, has promise but was written pretty sloppily.
My heartrate began to increase and become irregular, but this happens with almost any drug I take, so I paid it no mind. Taking a drug is really just ingesting some quantity of poison, hopefully insufficient to kill, in order to change the subjective experience temporarily, the details of such change mostly being forgotten in the aftermath. Point being, I'm used to my heart going a little crazy when I drink or smoke weed or take any other kind of drug, so I paid my heart no mind.
I talked on the phone for about an hour after that first hour of come-up in which I did dance-yoga. My imagination was incredibly stimulated. I looked around and my mind saw patterns in the arrangement of everyday objects. Anyone's imagination is capable of uch flights at any time, but most people are too fucking boring and self-absorbed to bother having that sort of fun, including me some of the time. I was paranoid at times, but I focused on breathing slowly and deeply.
Part of the way through my phone conversation, my words began slurring and I began seeing double. However, I ignored these symptoms at first. Once I had gotten off the phone, I could barely even walk. My neck was swollen to the touch and my head was pounding. I couldn't see straight or think straight or speak. My heart pounded faster and faster. I kept on grinning, feeling little anxiety, but dimly aware that I was becoming really, really ill. My stomach was tying itself into knots.
I did not go to sleep because it dawned on me that I might not wake up. My heart had begun feeling as though needles were being driven into it over and over again.
Then I heard the TV come on upstairs and I went up to see who it was. It was my younger brother. I spoke to him with great enthusiasm and vigor, thoughts racing from my imagination. My brother offered me some headies weed but I declined. Fuck that. Weed and acid were what gave me my first panic attack, and weed and LSA were what first started me hearing voices, which recurred for months afterward whenever I smoked weed, and still happens sometimes. The voices are moody. They will sometimes engage me in conversation, and sometimes cause horrible physical distress.
Even though I didn't smoke the weed, about an hour after my brother had gone up, a horrible set of voices began talking to me in my head.
"Yemteddy," one of them said. This meant, All of your coping mechanisms will come to nothing. If you are dying, you are dying no matter how you breathe or how positively you try to think. I am going to kill you because you are throwing your life away.
"Welmskiddle," another of them said. I do not quite remember what that means. Yemteddy and welmskiddle, repeating over and over again, a feeling like a cheese grater in my brain, a feeling like too much blood was rushing to parts of my brain and not enough blood to others, the voices whispering in the most horrible and sneering and contemptful tones. Pings and whirs and hums in my head. A horrible song, the tune of which I cannot remember and which I hope I never hear again -- I am getting goosebumps as I type this -- engulfed my skull and pain began racing up and down my arms. I could not get up out of the bed. All I could do was grind and gnash my teeth.
And then the experience stopped. I cannot say how long it lasted. I have slept the entire day away and I still feel weak and toxic. I'm throwing away the rest of my seeds, throwing away my b. caapi vines (MAOI's have just too many potentially toxic interactions to be worth the risk). Fuck drugs, fuck hearing voices, fuck poisoning myself through unpredictable interactions of chemicals not meant to be present within the human body.
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_hbwr
substancecode_lsa
substancecode_lysergamides
substancecode_ilexparaguariensis
substancecode_ethnobotanicals
_combo_
explevel_firsttime
exptype_negative
exptype_bodyload
exptype_difficult
roacode_oral
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