I wake up in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath, and I get real high, and I say "HEY what's going on?"
And I try, oh my God, do I try
I try all the time,
In this institution.
And I pray, oh my God, do I pray
I pray every single day
For a revolution.
So, if you've been reading my blog you know I like to party and have a good time. Well, lately I've been taking that good time a little too far and i've been stretching it thin over my eyes like a worn and torn veil. I've been drinking excessively... about every other night i'm leaning over the toilet. And I've been waking and baking everyday for the past two weeks. I've been smoking weed about 4 times a day. And not only that, but... I've been snorting things like focalin and pain killers on a more frequent basis. For awhile I thought this was all okay. I thought I was invincible... But then something happened. something that changed me forever. it was one of those events that people include in their memoir, or think of briefly right before they walk toward the light on their death bed. I tripped completely for the first time. And I can say easily without giving it much thought that it was the most horrific experience of my entire life. Maybe it's because I am crazy. I don't know why that particular hallucinogenic fucked me over so badly. And honestly I don't even want to think about it. I mean, I felt purely haunted by the experience for the next two days. I even debated seriously in my head whether I wanted to write about it. I was so afraid that writing about it would bring back the memories and make me relive it. But I'm going to tell you what happened, because I think that you guys should know what is possible if you take those drugs. It's not always fine and fucking dandy. Sometimes it's ridiculous and damaging and life altering.
I knew about 15 minutes after digesting it that I wasn't going to like the trip. My body started feeling really unusual and out of my control. I felt twitches up and down my legs and arms and back, and at the same time my body felt incredibly heavy, so, with each move I felt like I was losing strength. And then my vision began to change. I didn't just see the person sitting across from me. I saw a blurred and highlighted version. But then my mind started feeling distorted. Suddenly this person sitting across from me started to scare me for reasons unbeknowst to me. His heavy eyelids and glazed over stare started to scare me. "What do you see?" he asked me softly. And I just flipped out, because his whole appearance scared me so much. I was so scared of how little control I had that I couldn't believe he was actually enjoying it. And suddenly I thought he was some representative for the devil. So, I started to cry, and when he moved forward to comfort me I snapped. Because who wants a representative of the devil comforting them? So, I told him in the midst of
spiraling psychosis not to come near me. I was shaking and rocking back and forth, or atleast I thought I was. And then I started screaming at him. I said, "Just get the fuck out of my house." And I know he must have seen the insanity in my eyes because he bolted. And then I somehow managed to make it to my room. I turned the lights off and shook in bed, crying, sobbing, praying for it all to be over. My body felt so different and foreign and I just wanted to scratch my skin off. And then it occured to me that i might be experiencing some drug induced form of schizophrenia. I read book about that once. And it definitely seemed to be quite similar experiences. And so I started hypervenulating as voices and colors and images of clowns and harlequins soared in and out of my head, coming in through my ears and being transported out everytime I exhaled. It was like I had no control over anything. It was like I didn't exist. I had no connection to rationale. And I realized, laying in there in the darkness, cheeks all sticky and wet from crying, that I wanted my Mom and Dad. I didn't care how much trouble i'd be in. I just wanted them. I knew with them around I could be safe. So, I woke them up at 3am and they rushed into the car and drove an hour and a half from their home to pick me up. My dad stayed on the phone with me the whole time, trying to calm me down. He told me afterwards that he was so scared. He said the things I said and the eerieness of all the images I described was so out of the norm that he though I should go to the hospital. And then I told him that if I had a gun, I would shoot myself just to get the drug out of my system.Next thing I knew my parents had me in the car and were arguing about whether to take me to a hospital. I declined the invitation. I went home and after sitting in that hell for what seemed like forever, I finally drifted unknowingly to sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, I felt sane. And so fucking relieved that I was still alive, with my sanity intact. I also felt incredibly lucky. If it wasn't for my parents getting me and keeping me safe, I might not be here right now. I might've killed myself or been arrested or wound up running hysterically down the streets of Norfolk.
And so, I decided... No more drugs. I'm calling uncle. I'm saying when. I've hadenough. I've learned my lesson.
I'm not quite sure why I treat myself the way I do. I'm incredibly self-destructive. It's not that I hate myself. I think it's that I want someone to save me. I don't know. But I know enough is enough. And it's time I tried taking care of myself.
"The world is not respectable, it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever, BUT, it is shot through with beauty and line, with it's glints of courage and laughter, and in these,the spirit blooms...."