I wanted to be alone, in the quiet, to focus and manage all of this terrifying inner landscape rolling out inside of me and screaming at me to look at it. I ended up outside on the porch. It was raining, and my friends were very concerned about me. I was concerned about me. 6/
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I was on the porch floor and clung onto the railings and sobbed loudly through it. I asked my friends to leave me alone, and they said no. I asked if they thought maybe I was going to hurt myself, and they said yes. I was like, okay this seems sensible, and tried to ignore them.
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They said we should go for a walk, and bundled me up and ushered me outside the front door. It was dark, and I waited for the first chance I got and ran around the corner and dove into a bush. They chased after me, calling my name, but I really, really wanted to be alone.
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Eventually it turned into a small search party for me that I easily evaded; I was barefoot, in black thigh-high stockings somehow and a big puffy jacket, and ran down the sidewalk past all the yellow lights into nowhere.
'YOU'RE OKAY. YOU'RE OKAY' i muttered to myself.
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I realized I was going insane. My mind was utterly beyond my control, and this filled me with a calm, pervasive dread. I focused very hard as my feet padded rhythmically on the bubbling moonlit sidewalk. I needed to get my mind under control.
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I found a big suburban pond and sat down next to it, wondering idly if killing myself would be a good idea. I wasn't *me* anymore. I couldn't find myself in my own mind. Every time I noticed I was noticing the effects of the drug, I then noticed *that* part of me was affected too
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I needed to find the part of me that was *me*, that rested comfortably above all of this nonsense, that was like 'Ah yes Aella, what a silly experience you're having on this new drug.' Except the problem was this part wasn't there at all; there was no escape anywhere for me.
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I kept scratching the side of my left wrist, hoping the pain would orient me. It didn't help. I sat there for a long time, staring at the cold water, taking layers of skin, and desperately trying to think myself sober. It was like running the wrong way on an escalator.
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After the intensity of it all faded a little bit, I vaguely realized I was very cold, and in a stroke of incredible luck I managed to find my way back. They'd all been looking for me; this time when I told them I needed to be alone, they set me up in a bedroom with a cat.
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I stared at the cat for a long time as I came down. I texted my partner at the time, "this is exceedingly uncomfortable". I slowly returned to myself, and eventually was pieced back together enough to join the sunrise leftovers of the party.
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We went to a 24hr diner at around 6 am, coated in sweat and bad makeup. I'd been shaken up really badly, but *something* in me was... new, and I was fascinated. Before we finally went to bed, I asked my friend where I could get more LSD, and that was the beginning of all of it.
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Do you remember how much you were given? Your first time sounds so scary. Mine was calm, and I was alone at the opera and fell in love with it.
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I think my first time with LSD was at 20. However, it was after a year of off and on research after it was recommended to me. It was with like 3-5 people I knew well. It was also only 50 micrograms and not much happened. I just didn’t move at all for like 12 hours.
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First time I took psilocybin/shrooms (as a teen), I went outside in the dark and played around in a flower garden with a small water feature. It was easily the most fascinating experience of my life until that point. Handful of similar experiences since that time.
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