Background
25 years old, experienced "honeymoon phases" where I was, even if not addicted, then certainly obsessed with many sorts of substances. Honeymoon phase nr 1 alcohol, 2 nicotine, 3 psychedelics, 4 stimulants. The last one ended up with me landing in hospital either due to sheer paranoia or there might have been an actual danger to my life. All I know is I had an extremely irregular heartbeat, unexplainable anxiety, a funny feeling in my chest one feels when excited, only without any source of excitation, non stop. This moment when I felt like "dying" after the last stimulant binge resembled a psychedelic or dissociative experience, which of course will be relevant for the trips I had after that. I decided to stop stimulants completely, at least for some time, and to come back to psychedelics and dissociatives. I suspect I might have mild PTSD from the possibly near-death experience.
Substances I tried multiple times: MDMA, 4-MMC, classical amphetamines, high dose phenethylamine, LSD, psilocybin mushrooms, 2C-B, 4-HO-MET.
The Come-Up
I took acid at 1 pm, it kicked in an hour later. I felt come up anxiety for the first time in my life, probably due to fears of overdose flashbacks. As usual, I got really horny. I closed my eyes, and upon feeling the pleasurable tingling all over my body that resembled tender caresses, my sexual fantasies became extremely vivid, almost as if I was a kid again, the only difference being greater knowledge of what to do and what to expect in an intercourse. I was fantasizing almost exclusively about one of my female friends. In said fantasies I focused on closeness, vulnerability and emotional connection. And, as for some reason often on acid, there was a solid dash of perversion that made all of this somewhat surreal.
Going Outside
My friend suggested going to buy some weed. I hesitated, but finally admitted going outside would be an idea even better than staying alone, listening to music, and masturbating to wild stuff I would imagine with closed eyes. The view of the city made me somewhat euphoric so I started smiling genuinely, looking at people who now seemed more beautiful and interesting than ever. But pretty quickly the funny feeling in my chest, weird perspective and this surreal slo mo reminded me of the day I almost overdosed on 4-MMC. This made me paranoid. I told my friend I'm not having a good time and suggested going back and resting. He encouraged me to stay with him and tried to take my thoughts out of the paranoia by talking about some trivial stuff.
The anxiety was steadily rising until I saw a bunch of cute pigeons -- they were the only thing that didn't look distorted. Trying to also force myself to think about something pleasurable, I started running after these pigeons, genuinely believing there is a chance that me on psychedelics would communicate with animals and tame them more easily.
The Bus Ride
When we went into the bus, my paranoia came back, I felt like I preferred walking, even for hours on end, instead of being in a closed space. The matter was mostly the weird feeling in my chest and the psychedelic "significance indicators", as I would call them, being virtually indistinguishable from what I saw and felt during extreme cardiac arrhythmia. Surprisingly I didn't care about being seen. Acid for the first time in my life actually lowered my inhibitions instead of making them higher, I was feeling almost that whatever stupid thing I may do or say, it's just a simulation or a computer game anyway, so I don't need to worry.
My friend was saying things like "There's a high school nearby", knowing that at this point only talk about hot young girls would take me out of a bad trip, and he was kinda right. I said something along the lines of this, and added the comment, "Teenagers are hot, that's all I'm gonna say", purposefully making it as loud and obnoxious for people (many of them actual teenagers) as possible. "That's the ugly truth that everyone believes but few dare to say out loud". Fortunately, this was our last bus stop.
Unfortunately it happened to be so that the place where he bought weed is extremely close to the place where I had thought I would overdose. We went through the same street where I was basically praying for the first time in months to calm my heart rate. As expected, this didn't guarantee a good trip. Anxiety attacks would constantly intertwine with fits of drunk-like confidence and stimulant-like energy and curiosity. I noticed that two things almost forced me to stay in a positive mood, that being: grinning maniacally (there are apparently studies showing that even holding a pen in your jaw and thus forcing yourself to smile even without real emotions behind it kills depression) and thinking/talking about sex. So we basically combined the two, where I was smiling at cute girls walking by and we would discuss whether they are truly beautiful or if it is the acid influencing my perception. (For not being looked at that much by some people my friend and I referred to me as "drunk", which by the way wasn't really that far-fetched).
The Way Back
The way back seemed like an eternity to me. Yeah, on the bus there were some cute girls to look at, and the view outside was quite nice, but I finally wanted to pick some good songs and relax.
I decided to close my eyes. Beyond the standard patterns, in the corners of my eyes I was noticing some random but somewhat vivid and complex hallucinations. If I'm not mistaken they were elderly men and women walking in yellow shirts (I had a yellow shirt on myself on that day, and the shirts were exactly like mine). I put my hands on my eyes to stop external light sources from disturbing my CEVs. After I stopped doing that I looked around the bus and continued grinning like a madman, almost laughing. As I remember, I tried to discern if people were looking at me with concern or confusion, but not out of fear of being found out, but almost wanting to be.
Me and my friend decided to sit in a place that had just become vacant. In front of us was sitting a 5-year-old boy who clearly saw me smiling unusually and was clearly entertained by it, as he was laughing almost as if he tried to complete what I began with this grin. I was looking at him too. I looked at my friend and said, "He knows," sarcastically of course. He responded, "He is the only one knowing, because you are just like him right now."
The boy and his mom got off at the same bus stop as we two. I commented on the whole situation, saying, "Can you imagine having a conversation with your parents at 15, and they say, 'Do you remember this cheerful young man on the bus 10 years ago? You are old enough now to be told that he was actually on acid.'" I said it only half jokingly, having an impression that what I was doing was truly significant enough that a conversation about me tripping 10 years later by complete strangers wasn't that far-fetched.
Adding Cannabis
Then we smoked weed. It wasn't a good idea.
First thing, and the last funny thing that happened was, I shit you not (people on Twitter would have a field day with this one, especially knowing I'm somewhat right wing), was me having closed-eye hallucinations of gay black dudes kissing lol.
(Similar thing happened to me on 4-HO-MET with Syrian Rue, though I didn't interpret this as comically gay at that time, as the visuals represented athletic males resembling Greek statues, so it could as well be the subconscious coming back to the ancient collective unconscious or some other bullshit).
In all seriousness, I don't think I'm a closeted homosexual because of this. It's still kinda humiliating, so I don't think it's a real cope, but imo it's my subconscious showing the source of my insecurities is trying to live up to physical masculinity. As a kid I was fat, with gynecomastia, wide hips, etc. A lot of what I do in life is trying to compensate for that. My mostly humorous racism with a dash of seriousness also might be connected with that (hence black gay dudes specifically). First of all I always saw this race of people as more "manly" even if mostly in negative or neutral ways. Also, although "realistic" about race for most of my life, I became particularly prone to dropping racial truth nukes after, coincidentally, being sad because of being rejected by women. I saw socially desirable anti-racism as feminine and nonconformity, edginess and iconoclasm as typically masculine, so I aspired for the latter.
Or maybe I'm just overthinking a malfunctioning brain coming up with fucking random gay stuff lol.
Approaching Infinity
Here I have a black hole in my memory, but the next thing I remember is a nonsensical vortex of paranoia. My thoughts stopped making sense, I forgot who I was, and the only thing I "knew" was that the doom was coming. Spontaneous bodily sensations, a normal effect of either substance, seemed to me like my body begging for mercy. My friend told me to calm down. "You're just tripping, your heart rate is higher, that's normal."
Through my head was going machine gun fire of both random insignificant thoughts and the "value and weirdness and meaning of life" type ones, which funnily enough both kinds seemed equally significant. I couldn't discern whether the concept of inner palm, back, laying down on the side is more, less or equally as important as religion, sex, family, death.
I was almost sure I was dying. But another thing that makes me audibly laugh to this day: the alien that came to my body at that time couldn't memorize whether the urge to lay down and close eyes was a normal thing that took 1/3 part of everyone's life, or basically synonymous with dying. I was like, "I'm guessing I guessed somewhere that these bipeds do engage in such activities as 'sleep' but I'm not sure if I remember correctly. Can you imagine? 33 percent of existence with eyes closed, so ridiculous it cannot be true."
Another random thought that appeared in my mind is that I confused the names of my friend and my older brother. I didn't know which person was which and whom I should beg for help. I never noticed the similarity between their names; they both have 2 syllables, both contain t, p, o, r, just in a different order, and they both end with k. And they were both seen by me for certain periods of my life as "the drug guys," although in a different manner. The difference being that my relationship with my brother was always pretty bad. Did my friend become what my older brother was supposed to be?
The Thought Loop
I'm dying. Fuck. Is that all there is to life? Wake up the same day? (Random images from my life passing by as if something barely known) Satisfy parents? Make babies? (I'm going to hell...) Don't fuck without magic words? (Maybe not hell... maybe nothing?) Stop existing as if you were never truly there? (Even worse...) I must impregnate a woman... I can't stop being. What is a woman? Long hair? Short? Acting weird? Breasts? How weird is that? What to do? Put that thing into a hole? What is this thing? A penis? Vagina? Everyone has it? Kinda fucked up... I can't fuck any "woman" right now. I guess I will stop existing... But how?
I'm not stopping though... Just every next second seems longer. Every next thought seems more significant. I will never approach non-existence. It's Zeno's paradox. The last faintest remnance of my consciousness will progressively drag forever, staying an obscure image of the primitive creation of the universe, looking back at itself.
Then thoughts speed up. Almost feeling normal.
But no... suddenly I have the same impression of paradoxically approaching infinity. Just every next second seems longer. Every next thought seems more significant. I will never approach non-existence. It's Zeno's paradox. The last faintest remnants of my consciousness will progressively drag forever, staying an obscure image of the primitive creation of the universe, looking back at itself.
Wait, I can't experience infinity twice by definition! Well... maybe it's just my heart being close to death and brain acting like it's close to death... My heart can still come back to this objectively near-death state...
And such a thought loop would repeat... ad infinitum.
Coming Down
Almost feeling normal. Almost. Enough to know I need to be sober for an online lesson I would have. Trying to write an excuse to any person I could why I would appear later, feeling like the concepts of "lesson", "internet" and "language" are totally alien nonsense. Speaking different languages? We've been speaking English throughout most of my life? Like, why would you have different systems of communication for no reason and not try to fix it?
But anyway, the lesson was switched to a different day. I drank some beer to relax me after this date with infinity, death, and strangeness from the perspective of the meta-verse, and I basically felt like I was after a normal acid trip. I was feeling every little drop of alcohol in my stomach, and I was hypersensitive to its effects. One beer felt like three. I listened to Kate Bush's The Kick Inside while walking in the early evening through a park and suddenly found out why we loop on LSD. I understood that psychedelics make you hyper-aware in some aspects, but to compensate they blunt your intellect in other aspects to save the brain's energy. When sober, if a tree is 80% similar to another tree, you still perceive the 20%. But on acid, 80% seems like 100%, so it must mean you went by the same tree over and over again.
And the trees seemed like people. In a truly delusional way, not in a let's-fucking-simply-pretend way, but something like with fiction. When watching Breaking Bad, you don't believe that Bryan Cranston is truly a drug kingpin, but it's not like you force yourself to pretend it's not just a bunch of pixels on your screen either.
The Aftermath
I couldn't act fucked up in front of my family so I came home and took antipsychotic medication (supposedly "for sleep") ASAP. But even before it kicked in, I was just a little more nice, loving and compassionate with maybe 1mm wider pupils.
Sleeping on this stuff afterward was more trippy than the trip itself. The only problem is I don't remember any of that.
After waking up I randomly decided to write to a girl from Tinder who had asked me what language I speak.
"I don't speak Polish. I don't speak English. I'm outside space and time. I'm outside of race and nation. I'm outside of gender, sex and religion. Outside of language, hatred, love, friendship, money. I landed in hyperspace of ever-fractalizing infinity, and I don't know if I will ever go back."
Needless to say, she blocked me.