So, I’m sick for the second time in roughly a month. My fever and inability to breath have trapped me on the sofa, and I’m too tired to attempt a transfer to the bed.
What’s scary is that I’m noticing that this isn’t too much different from my usual days. I’m generally this hampered by low energy and lack of will, only now I have a bit of muscle ache and mucus to go along with it. I spend large portions of my time just staring into the distance just waiting for time to tick to a socially acceptable hour to go to sleep because I don’t have it in me to do anything. I’ve always had mental health potholes littering the road of my life, but who doesn’t? Thing is that now they feel like insurmountable chasms. Being out of college, and now living alone, have done little good for me. I spend whole days without uttering a word, to myself or anyone. I’ve also noticed that, where I was once just a little shy and awkward, I’m now a basket case when it comes to interpersonal communication. The simplest of conversations become marathons of tense pauses, strange interjections, and unintended rudeness.
While I am trying to up my social game; I met a whole bunch of neat strangers recently, tried to get more acquainted with my best dude friend’s girlfriend, am trying to view my coworkers more as part of a social circle; I still feel like I’m drowning in the deep end of a pool filled with molasses. I find now that I have to be a little buzzed on weed to even attempt to open up to new people, which is a problem because you never want to make a first impression while high.
Speaking on the topic of drugs, the other day I was at the previously mentioned friend’s house trying to get to know his new live-in girlfriend and we were doing some smoking. As per the norm, I clam up, and am awkward, and, worst of all, openly suspicious that she hates me (which is probably just social anxiety or paranoia on my part). They, in a turn of whimsy I suppose, suggested I take a tab of acid I’d been saving for a special occasion. I had never taken any before, and was storing it at their place waiting for a day when I was most comfortable to try it. I think that several months ago, maybe a year, I would have rejected them. I would have said no, and waited for when I wanted to try it. But new even more broken me just really wanted the night to go well, so I took it, in their uncomfortably foreign apartment, in the presence of this girl who I still feel really nervous around, and in the same space as her pitbull which terrifies me in some deep reptile part of my mind.
Honestly, it didn’t start off too bad, I just felt euphoric and colors seemed more interesting. I have a real interest and affinity for mind expansion through drugs, so I felt that I could just take the experience as positively as possible and hope for the best. However; an hour into the come up on the acid, my friend and his lady suggest I try salvia for the first time too. My decision making processes already compromised by a combination of weed, acid, and feeble self confidence, I accept. After my tug on a bowl full of that, I remember very little about what happened in the physical world for the rest of the night.
I was wrapped in a hallucinogenic light-show of black and white for what must have been hours. I was obsessed with the visual idea of eyes focusing, of parallel lines, of binary switches, and either/or states. I visualized a twirling landscape of a single band of light bisecting a black plane into two parallel areas of darkness. I kept focusing in on the center, moving closer to the source of the light, hoping to find the place where parallel lines intersect, where a state can be both 0 and 1, convinced that if I found it I would either break through to a different realm of experience and never return, or I would die. Either prospect seemed like a dream come true. I know that during all this I was lying on the concrete floor of his warehouse apartment, quietly drooling. I never broke through because the pitbull barked at intervals and my mind would flood with images of me dying on that floor and the dog making a meal of me, and my parents finding me like that. So I’d attempt to wake up and return to the real, but I kept fading back because I had no control over my thoughts.
I saw much more besides that; for a moment I was convinced that all my physical experiences were false, and I entertained the notion that I might actually be an old man, homeless and exhausted on the street. At some other point I stared into the bathroom mirror entranced by the fused pupil that appears when you focus past the glass (like a hidden image picture).
I’ve disembarked from my train of thought. I started off ranting, and now this is a drug diary. I guess in a nutshell I was saying that I had a strange experience, good in some ways, but it seems to have left the strands of my mind even more tenuous than before. I keep returning to that image of the band of light twirling in the dark, and it isn’t helping me stomach the turning of the minutes any better. I truly felt like I would die several times during that night. Sure, I was overreacting to a dissociative trip, but the rub was that I wasn’t afraid of potentially dying; I was only worried that the circumstances of my death would hurt my parents. I think that should be a warning to me of where my brain is at. I’m going through something very real, and I can’t brush it away as easily as I did in high school or college, and considering I had to see a school shrink in college to help me brush it away, I am very concerned.
For all you tldr’ers, though that’s assuming I have readers: I’m sick, feeling messed up, no one to turn to, not a true drug abuser yet, but drugs do seem to be setting off reactions in my crazy brain.
I kind of wonder If I should bother posting this. Now that I see it all out there, it feels like pity blogging. It would be a waste not to though…