Don't think this really qualifies as a trip report, as this 'trip' lasted just shy of half a year. It also legitimately took me to a dark side, so it seemed like the most appropriate place to share. However, mods, if you feel the need to move it then that's fine. This might also be very long and rambling, but if you're interested in reading it then thanks.
I have toyed with the idea of writing this all down for ages - part of me just wants to get it off my chest to people who, well, really understand I guess. My friends at the time just thought I was a 'wasteman' or something. They didn't seem to understand or really give a shit that I was descending into some dark abyss of no return - fuck knows why, it was obvious to everyone who passed me on the street what was going on. Perhaps that was part of the reason for why it got so bad. They're not my friends now for what it's worth.
It's almost embarrassing, looking back. Mephedrone. Drone. Mkat! That stupid fucking legal high that 16 year olds were taking in shitty mainstream clubs because they had seen it on the news. I was 21 by the time I even had my first line and frankly thought nothing of it at the time. It made my clothes smell for sure, and the comedown was pretty moody. But it was fucking cheap as well and being a relatively poor student, £15 for a gram wasn't something I could pass up. I certainly wasn't paying over double that for MDMA on a night out, and (decent coke) was and still is ludicrously expensive.
So I had no intention to begin with of getting hooked on this powder the way I did. But it did happen, that's no mistake.
I started using it during my shifts at a nightclub. It was the best club in the fairly small student city I was in. Big name DJ's and producers were playing every Friday and Saturday, and sometimes earlier in the week as well. Seeing everybody get mashed and having a great night got a little annoying, so I decided to join in the fun. I'm a huge electronic music fan, mostly of techno and good drum and bass, so this was a safe haven for me. The small amount of mepehdrone I had would fulfil a couple of bumps during the night to make it more fun. It also kept me awake as it was fucking exhausting as anyone who has worked in these kind of nighclubs will vouch for. Shifts range from 10 till 5/6 in the morning, non stop serving drink after drink, cleaning, mopping up vomit, barging through a claustrophobic dark room to pink up beer cans and plastic cups, refiling the ice bowls...you get it. Taxing, laborious, sweaty and you need a pick-me-up.
So that's how it started. And then the habit kicked in pretty quickly, almost like a switch in my head. I lived near a friend's house, five people lived there, three of which were dealers. One occasionally sold weed, the other two, Mephedrone, ecstasy pills and ketamine. As i wasn't having the best time in my own house I spent the majority of my time there sniffing a lot of drugs. Mostly mephedrone but was using a variety of drugs most days.
Within a month I had gone from a gram every couple of days to 3, sometimes 4 a day. So you can imagine what this was doing to my bank balance - suddenly not so cheap anymore, huh? It felt totally normal to be doing it - everyone does it, right? It was acceptable in this house, for sure. I could wake up and do a line at breakfast and no one batted an eye lid. It was fun at this point and didn't think much of it at all.
I preferred to do it at night, after I got home from work and if I had the night off. I was kind of addicted to partying and nightlife in a way as well, sleep was for the day. Fuck uni anyway, I never wanted to be some stuffy lawyer in the first place, lectures could suck my balls for all I cared.
My routine was: start the day buying around 3 grams of Mephedrone. I would have the smallest of amounts during the day, but once darkness fell I would sit in my room or the kitchen table of my friend's house and snort line after line until every morsel had gone and even then I would desperately fiend and search the surfaces for any chance of an extra bump The lines were thick, long, sometimes half the length of a book. The rush was incredible, still one of the best buzz's I've experienced. Just an almighty rush of euphoria, my face and mouth would tremour and shake, my vision would get blurred. Music sounded even more like a dream - it was like being on another planet. I loved it so much and wanted to feel that way all the time. I was so lonely and felt so pathetic, didn't have a huge amount of self-esteem, and this was like.... magic powder. Escapism, pure and simple.
Of course the comedowns were hellish. Your body feels like it's run an Olympic marathon, but as you toss and turn in bed trying to sleep, freezing cold because of how abnormally hot your body gets when you're up, the mind-twisting depression leads to only one answer: get more. Walk the 15 minutes to your friends house and buy more to make this go away. Just wait till he's awake, get some more and it will all be ok.
By two months into my abuse the physical signs were there for all the world to see. I've always been a fairly skinny guy, but my habit had sent me from fairly scrawny to downright sickly looking. I was gaunt, my eyes were like empty sockets because of the lack of regular sleep. My legs in particular were like sparrow legs, my stomach had freakishly low fat on it. I looked like a train wreck. My clothes were now too big for me. They also absolutely reeked of this poison. I don't know how to describe it but even now I can identify it by smell alone. No matter how many times they were washed it made no difference. No matter how many times I showered either I seemed to reek of it as well. I would get on the subway to University and I could see people following me with their eyes, wrinkling their noses in disgust. I turned up at a fairly low-key party one night and people literally stood aghast and open mouthed when I walked past and they could smell it on me. Then they would ask for some, which was humiliating at the time but kind of funny to look back on now.
But yet I continued, more vigorously. I would snort lines off nightclub toilet seats, in my lecture halls when nobody was looking, on the train. University had become a non-existent part of my life now, anyway, I barely showed up, so much so that I got phone calls from the Department asking if I had dropped out.
Nothing mattered except having more. It was all mine and I was going to sniff every mg of the stuff, whenever and wherever I felt like. So what if i'm a walking skeleton? I can stop any time. Right?
Every penny I had went on mephedrone. I stopped eating. Some days I wouldn't eat at all. I fed my family bullshit to make up for that fact that I looked so malnourished. All the time these so called 'friends' were selling me the stuff, slowly letting me kill myself.
One morning after particularly chronic night of shoving it up my nose, I suddenly became short of my breath. My body felt tense. And then I noticed my heart beat. Fast. It got faster and faster until I felt like it was going to rip out of my chest. It fucking killed, as well, full on searing, stabbing pains, every time I moved it would shoot through my chest. A heart attack? Was this it? Whatever it was, I could barely move for a couple of hours. Even typing on the keyboard or going to the bathroom became an impossible task. It scared me, sure, but my ego was too big at the time to pay it much notice. The following day I visited home for a week and didn't touch anything. My body was exhausted and most days I couldn't get out of bed. This was lethargy on a whole new level - I made out I was sick to my family and they believed it, but I knew better. Without that constant amphetamine driving my body was totally depleted of energy and nutrients.
When I got back to the city I lived in, it started all over again for another month. By now the people I lived with were not talking to me anymore - they were aware of what was going on to an extent and didn't seem to understand/care. I had also become a selfish person to live with and didn't clean up after myself, played music loud really late, the whole nine. I had waited all week to snort a big line and the feeling was immensely satisfying when I finally did.
A month later things really spiralled out of control. I lost my job at the club I worked at, partially due to my habit, and as I was basically failing Uni (didn't turn up to half the exams, the ones I did turn up to I hadn't even studied for and basically walked out after half hour. I had also been awake the whole night snorting grams of the stuff, great idea!). I had no purpose anymore. I was leaching off my parents' money, all the while spending it on this fucking powder which was now an extension of myself. I sat on my bedroom floor one morning, unable to speak, move or even think coherently - as if my free will had been cut off. My body and soul were so starved and my brain was so fried with this stuff that I didn't even know how to get up and walk. I became a vegetable. Bizarre, really, anybody else ever experienced this?
Some mild psychosis definitely occured also, intense paranoia at times and the feeling I was being followed.
What finally got me to stop, six months down the line, was another near heart problem. This time was worse and lasted the whole day. The pain was debilitating and to be honest I could barely breathe. I had to take slow, deep breaths and sit motionlessly for about 7 hours until it gradually subsided. I was at my 'friends' house who completely ignored my worries that I needed to go to hospital. I was terrified, could barely speak the words, just knew that something was seriously, medically wrong. I was very close to calling an ambulance, what stopped me was the fear of being found out I was essentially a drug addict. I honestly think I was as close to a heart attack as you can get and I count myself incredibly lucky that my body fought against it. A heart attack, at 21 years old, no less!
By this point I realised I had been playing with fire and received a third degree burn. I took a long hard look at myself in the mirror when I got home and did not recognise me anymore. I had been in the same clothes for days, my skin was whiter than snow, dark circles buried underneath my empty, hollow eyes.
I failed Uni of course, miserably so. Didn't even bother resitting, the course wasn't for me and I didn't want to spend another day in the place I lived. I had to break away from that methodical routine of sitting alone and sniffing my money and my life up my left nostril. It was torturously lonely in the end; the party was truly over, I was the only one left standing after two-three days awake, alone, in my room, scraping grains of the stuff from my desk and into my nose.
Lasting effects: Can't say for sure if there are any. Certainly after I stopped using the lethargy returned in full swing, and for about 4 days I couldn't get out of bed. I had night terrors. I got very light headed every couple of hours or so and my nose constantly stung. I think my concentration has been affected by my abuse as I find it hard to stay focused on reading books, watching films or even in conversation now and I don't think that was an issue before. I also tend to grind my teeth a lot, probably because of how much time I spent doing that when I was fucked (ha).
I certainly don't think it was physically addictive, but extremely mentally addictive. I may be wrong though? I just never felt any serious physical withdrawals.
It made me realise that I have an addictive personality. If I could afford to regularly use good cocaine I would probably fall back into a similar pattern. I have to be careful, I guess.
I don't know if this will help anyone. I don't even know if anyone is reading this biblical report. But this was my venture into the dark side. Certainly not as damaging and destructive as many of you on here, but I was definitely on a runaway train before I had the sense to jump off the fuck off.
Stay safe, if anyone wants to ask questions or advice then comment or pm me. Thanks for reading!
I have toyed with the idea of writing this all down for ages - part of me just wants to get it off my chest to people who, well, really understand I guess. My friends at the time just thought I was a 'wasteman' or something. They didn't seem to understand or really give a shit that I was descending into some dark abyss of no return - fuck knows why, it was obvious to everyone who passed me on the street what was going on. Perhaps that was part of the reason for why it got so bad. They're not my friends now for what it's worth.
It's almost embarrassing, looking back. Mephedrone. Drone. Mkat! That stupid fucking legal high that 16 year olds were taking in shitty mainstream clubs because they had seen it on the news. I was 21 by the time I even had my first line and frankly thought nothing of it at the time. It made my clothes smell for sure, and the comedown was pretty moody. But it was fucking cheap as well and being a relatively poor student, £15 for a gram wasn't something I could pass up. I certainly wasn't paying over double that for MDMA on a night out, and (decent coke) was and still is ludicrously expensive.
So I had no intention to begin with of getting hooked on this powder the way I did. But it did happen, that's no mistake.
I started using it during my shifts at a nightclub. It was the best club in the fairly small student city I was in. Big name DJ's and producers were playing every Friday and Saturday, and sometimes earlier in the week as well. Seeing everybody get mashed and having a great night got a little annoying, so I decided to join in the fun. I'm a huge electronic music fan, mostly of techno and good drum and bass, so this was a safe haven for me. The small amount of mepehdrone I had would fulfil a couple of bumps during the night to make it more fun. It also kept me awake as it was fucking exhausting as anyone who has worked in these kind of nighclubs will vouch for. Shifts range from 10 till 5/6 in the morning, non stop serving drink after drink, cleaning, mopping up vomit, barging through a claustrophobic dark room to pink up beer cans and plastic cups, refiling the ice bowls...you get it. Taxing, laborious, sweaty and you need a pick-me-up.
So that's how it started. And then the habit kicked in pretty quickly, almost like a switch in my head. I lived near a friend's house, five people lived there, three of which were dealers. One occasionally sold weed, the other two, Mephedrone, ecstasy pills and ketamine. As i wasn't having the best time in my own house I spent the majority of my time there sniffing a lot of drugs. Mostly mephedrone but was using a variety of drugs most days.
Within a month I had gone from a gram every couple of days to 3, sometimes 4 a day. So you can imagine what this was doing to my bank balance - suddenly not so cheap anymore, huh? It felt totally normal to be doing it - everyone does it, right? It was acceptable in this house, for sure. I could wake up and do a line at breakfast and no one batted an eye lid. It was fun at this point and didn't think much of it at all.
I preferred to do it at night, after I got home from work and if I had the night off. I was kind of addicted to partying and nightlife in a way as well, sleep was for the day. Fuck uni anyway, I never wanted to be some stuffy lawyer in the first place, lectures could suck my balls for all I cared.
My routine was: start the day buying around 3 grams of Mephedrone. I would have the smallest of amounts during the day, but once darkness fell I would sit in my room or the kitchen table of my friend's house and snort line after line until every morsel had gone and even then I would desperately fiend and search the surfaces for any chance of an extra bump The lines were thick, long, sometimes half the length of a book. The rush was incredible, still one of the best buzz's I've experienced. Just an almighty rush of euphoria, my face and mouth would tremour and shake, my vision would get blurred. Music sounded even more like a dream - it was like being on another planet. I loved it so much and wanted to feel that way all the time. I was so lonely and felt so pathetic, didn't have a huge amount of self-esteem, and this was like.... magic powder. Escapism, pure and simple.
Of course the comedowns were hellish. Your body feels like it's run an Olympic marathon, but as you toss and turn in bed trying to sleep, freezing cold because of how abnormally hot your body gets when you're up, the mind-twisting depression leads to only one answer: get more. Walk the 15 minutes to your friends house and buy more to make this go away. Just wait till he's awake, get some more and it will all be ok.
By two months into my abuse the physical signs were there for all the world to see. I've always been a fairly skinny guy, but my habit had sent me from fairly scrawny to downright sickly looking. I was gaunt, my eyes were like empty sockets because of the lack of regular sleep. My legs in particular were like sparrow legs, my stomach had freakishly low fat on it. I looked like a train wreck. My clothes were now too big for me. They also absolutely reeked of this poison. I don't know how to describe it but even now I can identify it by smell alone. No matter how many times they were washed it made no difference. No matter how many times I showered either I seemed to reek of it as well. I would get on the subway to University and I could see people following me with their eyes, wrinkling their noses in disgust. I turned up at a fairly low-key party one night and people literally stood aghast and open mouthed when I walked past and they could smell it on me. Then they would ask for some, which was humiliating at the time but kind of funny to look back on now.
But yet I continued, more vigorously. I would snort lines off nightclub toilet seats, in my lecture halls when nobody was looking, on the train. University had become a non-existent part of my life now, anyway, I barely showed up, so much so that I got phone calls from the Department asking if I had dropped out.
Nothing mattered except having more. It was all mine and I was going to sniff every mg of the stuff, whenever and wherever I felt like. So what if i'm a walking skeleton? I can stop any time. Right?
Every penny I had went on mephedrone. I stopped eating. Some days I wouldn't eat at all. I fed my family bullshit to make up for that fact that I looked so malnourished. All the time these so called 'friends' were selling me the stuff, slowly letting me kill myself.
One morning after particularly chronic night of shoving it up my nose, I suddenly became short of my breath. My body felt tense. And then I noticed my heart beat. Fast. It got faster and faster until I felt like it was going to rip out of my chest. It fucking killed, as well, full on searing, stabbing pains, every time I moved it would shoot through my chest. A heart attack? Was this it? Whatever it was, I could barely move for a couple of hours. Even typing on the keyboard or going to the bathroom became an impossible task. It scared me, sure, but my ego was too big at the time to pay it much notice. The following day I visited home for a week and didn't touch anything. My body was exhausted and most days I couldn't get out of bed. This was lethargy on a whole new level - I made out I was sick to my family and they believed it, but I knew better. Without that constant amphetamine driving my body was totally depleted of energy and nutrients.
When I got back to the city I lived in, it started all over again for another month. By now the people I lived with were not talking to me anymore - they were aware of what was going on to an extent and didn't seem to understand/care. I had also become a selfish person to live with and didn't clean up after myself, played music loud really late, the whole nine. I had waited all week to snort a big line and the feeling was immensely satisfying when I finally did.
A month later things really spiralled out of control. I lost my job at the club I worked at, partially due to my habit, and as I was basically failing Uni (didn't turn up to half the exams, the ones I did turn up to I hadn't even studied for and basically walked out after half hour. I had also been awake the whole night snorting grams of the stuff, great idea!). I had no purpose anymore. I was leaching off my parents' money, all the while spending it on this fucking powder which was now an extension of myself. I sat on my bedroom floor one morning, unable to speak, move or even think coherently - as if my free will had been cut off. My body and soul were so starved and my brain was so fried with this stuff that I didn't even know how to get up and walk. I became a vegetable. Bizarre, really, anybody else ever experienced this?
Some mild psychosis definitely occured also, intense paranoia at times and the feeling I was being followed.
What finally got me to stop, six months down the line, was another near heart problem. This time was worse and lasted the whole day. The pain was debilitating and to be honest I could barely breathe. I had to take slow, deep breaths and sit motionlessly for about 7 hours until it gradually subsided. I was at my 'friends' house who completely ignored my worries that I needed to go to hospital. I was terrified, could barely speak the words, just knew that something was seriously, medically wrong. I was very close to calling an ambulance, what stopped me was the fear of being found out I was essentially a drug addict. I honestly think I was as close to a heart attack as you can get and I count myself incredibly lucky that my body fought against it. A heart attack, at 21 years old, no less!
By this point I realised I had been playing with fire and received a third degree burn. I took a long hard look at myself in the mirror when I got home and did not recognise me anymore. I had been in the same clothes for days, my skin was whiter than snow, dark circles buried underneath my empty, hollow eyes.
I failed Uni of course, miserably so. Didn't even bother resitting, the course wasn't for me and I didn't want to spend another day in the place I lived. I had to break away from that methodical routine of sitting alone and sniffing my money and my life up my left nostril. It was torturously lonely in the end; the party was truly over, I was the only one left standing after two-three days awake, alone, in my room, scraping grains of the stuff from my desk and into my nose.
Lasting effects: Can't say for sure if there are any. Certainly after I stopped using the lethargy returned in full swing, and for about 4 days I couldn't get out of bed. I had night terrors. I got very light headed every couple of hours or so and my nose constantly stung. I think my concentration has been affected by my abuse as I find it hard to stay focused on reading books, watching films or even in conversation now and I don't think that was an issue before. I also tend to grind my teeth a lot, probably because of how much time I spent doing that when I was fucked (ha).
I certainly don't think it was physically addictive, but extremely mentally addictive. I may be wrong though? I just never felt any serious physical withdrawals.
It made me realise that I have an addictive personality. If I could afford to regularly use good cocaine I would probably fall back into a similar pattern. I have to be careful, I guess.
I don't know if this will help anyone. I don't even know if anyone is reading this biblical report. But this was my venture into the dark side. Certainly not as damaging and destructive as many of you on here, but I was definitely on a runaway train before I had the sense to jump off the fuck off.
Stay safe, if anyone wants to ask questions or advice then comment or pm me. Thanks for reading!
