Staying in this position is like visiting paradise, it is my own particular chillax cubicle. I stand up and go into the living room, I am now bombarded with euphoria.
Four hours have gone by, and the head fuck disappeared. I am left with a rushing euphoria, provoked by the fact that I have regained my sanity. I feel closely bonded to inert objects. I love the lamp, the bed, the table, the drawings. I put some happy hardcore and smoke a cigarette, damn, it tastes freaking good. I start to dance, I am happy. There are no visuals whatsoever, just a feeling of emphathy. I believe the alprazolam had taken its effect, and all the head-fuck disappeared in a matter of seconds. The euphoria lasted about 20 minutes, which was then followed by a time of recollecting what I had just gone through.
Up to that day, I thought I was not scared of death. I was very afraid of death when I was a child, but now, I have grown tough, due to life’s experiences, and I have said to myself that dying would just end the agony that my life constitutes. I was wrong. Whilst I would not classify this as a near-death experience, I would say that the insanity was so profound that it made me appreciate my life, existence, and sanity a bit more. It also allowed me to value companionship, and that being lonely is the worst that can happen to a human being. Realizing that it is only you, that the rest of humanity is just part of your own-made reality, is scary.