Let there be hope ^_^
So, out of boredom, desperation, and/or the urge to blatantly waste my $3000 of expendable income, I decided to get some marijuana. I didn't buy the leaf-stuff, but five "THC lolly pops". The first pop I had didn't make me feel "high"; rather, it just made me feel a little more relaxed, as though I'd been meditating for twenty minutes. I felt more clear-headed; it was easier to ignore the raging psychotic/depressive symptoms, thoughts, and feelings that roam within me. The THC pop effectively turned my illness down to a 'dull roar', instead of the usual screaming that it is.
"Well that was nice," I thought to myself. But I really wanted something more, something 'euphoric', an experience with absolutely no pain.
So the next day, I took four pops at once (after class, research, and my 'stricktly platonic' date with someone I'd met on craigslist.... that's right, fucking craigslist... yes, I'm desperate for human affection; I'll be the first to admit...). It takes longer for the THC to take effect when ingesting marijuana as opposed to smoking it, but within half an hour, I noticed some dramatic changes in my perceptual reality:
1. Moving around in my studio felt like moving through a viscous liquid such as honey.
2. I felt submerged, and images around me shimmered as though I was underwater
3. I felt as though I was slightly floating
4. My skin was very sensitive to pleasure - stroking my chest slowly released a lot of tension and joy to the point of moaning
5. I felt incredibly flexible: my joints were fluid and it was difficult to stand still.
6. I could hear lovely, soft, slow trip-hop music... I moved around to see if the music was coming from a neighbor - nope, just me.
Hearing things is nothing new to me, having had psychosis for nearly a decade - but the things I heard were never musical in nature, and certainly not as beautiful and breathtaking as what I heard after ingesting marijuana. It was definitly trip-hop, and the woman's voice was honey to my ears... I can describe her voice the best by analogy to Imogen Heap's modified/amplified vocals in her song "hide and seek". But the woman I heard wasn't saying anything intelligible, like words, she just had a complex rhythem of long, muffled moans, soft, amelodic humming, chanting, and slow giggling. It was the best "music" I've ever heard.
If I knew the experience was going to get much more intense, I would have stayed home, but I decided to go to 4th ave. like a fool. I lit up a cigar (just for fun - no, I'm not smoking regularly) and left my studio. Walking felt very pleasurable and easy - it was as if I was being blown by the wind down the street. All I had to do was pick up my feet and magically I moved forward. The street, the cars, the trees all were vibrating softly, gently guiding me to fourth avenue.
Suddenly, I bumped into Natasha, not having seen her for many months. She greeted me, but I was so startled and high, I couldn't bring myself to say anything in response. I just kept floating down the street. And I'm sure she didn't appreciate the smell of my cigar, so it was probably best for the both of us that I didn't stop to talk. Why did she bother to say hello to me? I'd gotten used to her irrational estrangement of me this year and all of the sudden, she's willing to talk. Nah, it was probably just a social reflex; a conditioned response, especially in light of the guilt she carried for what she did (or rather, didn't do) for me...
< you know something's seriously wrong with someone who refuses to offer consolation when you're going thru such intense misery as to inspire suicide by shotgun blast to the head... "... and the love of the great body of people will go cold." - Revelation >
Anyways, after the encounter with her, I thought perhaps it was just a hallucination. Despite popular opinion, true hallucination is rare with marijuana use; but I did take a lot of it, so it's not implausible. It also seems reasonable in light of the reports indicating that most of these THC-caused hallucinations are generally manifestations of wishful thinking - subconscious or not. Yes, there's something within me that still desires to spend time with her... pheromones? It must be purely a component of the flesh, because I can see no logical reason why I would want her company.
By the time I got to 4th ave., I was sufficiently messed-up. Not just pleasantly high, but almost unable to walk. The soft trip-hop music had turned to full-blown techno with a furious tempo. There was a dance club in my head. I heard electronic sounds and booming bases more clearly than I'd ever experienced. Passers-by also noticed my clumsy floating about. One of them remarked "This kid SMOKED!!!" which sent me into hysterical giggling. I sat down at a table outside of "World Wrappers" and tried to contain myself and stop laughing. The laughing wasn't pleasurable as usual, but felt very mechanistic and uncontrollable, like someone was tickling me without mercy. I could barely breath; my exhalation smelt strongly of weed and my whole body felt very hot. Not sweaty-hot like an annoyingly hot Tucson day, but a pleasant surge of heart-warming heat thru which I could feel none of my usual pain. Mission accomplished? Not exactly, for now I was a little paranoid: if those people could tell I was high, so could the cops. I couldn't stand up for fifteen minutes; I was afraid I was going to fall over and pass out, but I couldn't just sit there shaking and looking lazily about like a true stoner. So I very effortfully managed to get myself to the nearest bar (Bumsted's) and ordered two soft drinks. That helped the severe dry-mouth I had, but did nothing to alleviate the shaking and foggy perception. My motion was shaky, as if I were drunk, but I was trembling violently and could barely keep from spilling the drinks on myself. I saw the bartender pick up the phone and she began to press some buttons... was she calling the cops on me? Was I being overly paranoid? I've never before seen a bartender make a phone call and she was glancing at me frequently with concern in her eyes...
I might have been high, but I wasn't stupid, so I left more than enough money on the counter and got out of there as quickly as my trembling legs would take me... out into the dark streets where I hopefully wouldn't be noticed. I hobbled all the way back home and passed out in my bed. The walk home was nice, though. The trembling gave way to fast-paced walking, and the lights on campus were all the more beautiful and surrealistic.
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And the next day, I drove to Mexico to get some Ketamine. Ketamine is an anaesthetic/tranquilizer typical used on animals and sometimes humans in surgical procedures. It's illegal in the USA because of the high potential for abuse (not just by club druggies, but also date-rapists, as it's even stronger than Rhohypnol and much easier to apply). I, of course, being beyond such immoral behaviour, sought to obtain ketamine for legitimate reasons. According to that article, it may help in depression - even those with severe, major depression whom haven't responded to standard therapies and medications. The article claims that ketamine apparently "re-boots" the brain, so that old, heavily engrained negative thought patterns, behaviours, emotions, feelings, and conditioning can be "re-set" to more positive ones.
Worth a try, right? I know what you're thinking... "aren't you experimenting with drugs? isn't that bad?" what have I got to lose, except some money, obviously? If this is the magic bullet that once and for all kills the werewolf of psychotic depression and suicidiality, it's worth a try, right? Hey, it's not like you tried to help me, so don't tell me to stop trying to help myself.
The Mexican doctor I spoke to had not read that article, but he did know that many people use it to treat insomnia. Just a couple of drops in a glass of water, he told me, and I'll be out like a lamp. "I can't promise that it will make you feel better; but it will certainly make you sleep better."
That made me think of Natasha... I could easily drop another $150 to get a bottle for her, but it was just too risky... When you cross the border, if you get caught with that shit, it's a serious penalty. But it's much worse if you get caught with quantities that makes them think that it wasn't for your personal use. I could always say I was going to kill myself with the tranquilizer, in which case, if they believed me, I wouldn't be sent to a real prison or fined, but two bottles is wayyyyy more than you need for suicide, so I don't think they'd believe it...
Damn flesh; always trying to cultivate friendships for human affection... "she's not your friend, she never was your friend, and she'll never be your friend. Get over it. In one of her recent posts, she claims to be getting more sleep, so she's fine without your generousity - and besides, she didn't accept the other things you offered her; why would she now? Do you really think she magically became more rational and approachable? Now you're the one who's being irrational - forget about it."
Well, if I knew that the CBP agent wasn't even going to look at my bags or ask me why I was in Mexico, I would have definitly got some more ketamine; but that's all in retrospect now. I'll let you know how it goes ^_^
"Well that was nice," I thought to myself. But I really wanted something more, something 'euphoric', an experience with absolutely no pain.
So the next day, I took four pops at once (after class, research, and my 'stricktly platonic' date with someone I'd met on craigslist.... that's right, fucking craigslist... yes, I'm desperate for human affection; I'll be the first to admit...). It takes longer for the THC to take effect when ingesting marijuana as opposed to smoking it, but within half an hour, I noticed some dramatic changes in my perceptual reality:
1. Moving around in my studio felt like moving through a viscous liquid such as honey.
2. I felt submerged, and images around me shimmered as though I was underwater
3. I felt as though I was slightly floating
4. My skin was very sensitive to pleasure - stroking my chest slowly released a lot of tension and joy to the point of moaning
5. I felt incredibly flexible: my joints were fluid and it was difficult to stand still.
6. I could hear lovely, soft, slow trip-hop music... I moved around to see if the music was coming from a neighbor - nope, just me.
Hearing things is nothing new to me, having had psychosis for nearly a decade - but the things I heard were never musical in nature, and certainly not as beautiful and breathtaking as what I heard after ingesting marijuana. It was definitly trip-hop, and the woman's voice was honey to my ears... I can describe her voice the best by analogy to Imogen Heap's modified/amplified vocals in her song "hide and seek". But the woman I heard wasn't saying anything intelligible, like words, she just had a complex rhythem of long, muffled moans, soft, amelodic humming, chanting, and slow giggling. It was the best "music" I've ever heard.
If I knew the experience was going to get much more intense, I would have stayed home, but I decided to go to 4th ave. like a fool. I lit up a cigar (just for fun - no, I'm not smoking regularly) and left my studio. Walking felt very pleasurable and easy - it was as if I was being blown by the wind down the street. All I had to do was pick up my feet and magically I moved forward. The street, the cars, the trees all were vibrating softly, gently guiding me to fourth avenue.
Suddenly, I bumped into Natasha, not having seen her for many months. She greeted me, but I was so startled and high, I couldn't bring myself to say anything in response. I just kept floating down the street. And I'm sure she didn't appreciate the smell of my cigar, so it was probably best for the both of us that I didn't stop to talk. Why did she bother to say hello to me? I'd gotten used to her irrational estrangement of me this year and all of the sudden, she's willing to talk. Nah, it was probably just a social reflex; a conditioned response, especially in light of the guilt she carried for what she did (or rather, didn't do) for me...
< you know something's seriously wrong with someone who refuses to offer consolation when you're going thru such intense misery as to inspire suicide by shotgun blast to the head... "... and the love of the great body of people will go cold." - Revelation >
Anyways, after the encounter with her, I thought perhaps it was just a hallucination. Despite popular opinion, true hallucination is rare with marijuana use; but I did take a lot of it, so it's not implausible. It also seems reasonable in light of the reports indicating that most of these THC-caused hallucinations are generally manifestations of wishful thinking - subconscious or not. Yes, there's something within me that still desires to spend time with her... pheromones? It must be purely a component of the flesh, because I can see no logical reason why I would want her company.
By the time I got to 4th ave., I was sufficiently messed-up. Not just pleasantly high, but almost unable to walk. The soft trip-hop music had turned to full-blown techno with a furious tempo. There was a dance club in my head. I heard electronic sounds and booming bases more clearly than I'd ever experienced. Passers-by also noticed my clumsy floating about. One of them remarked "This kid SMOKED!!!" which sent me into hysterical giggling. I sat down at a table outside of "World Wrappers" and tried to contain myself and stop laughing. The laughing wasn't pleasurable as usual, but felt very mechanistic and uncontrollable, like someone was tickling me without mercy. I could barely breath; my exhalation smelt strongly of weed and my whole body felt very hot. Not sweaty-hot like an annoyingly hot Tucson day, but a pleasant surge of heart-warming heat thru which I could feel none of my usual pain. Mission accomplished? Not exactly, for now I was a little paranoid: if those people could tell I was high, so could the cops. I couldn't stand up for fifteen minutes; I was afraid I was going to fall over and pass out, but I couldn't just sit there shaking and looking lazily about like a true stoner. So I very effortfully managed to get myself to the nearest bar (Bumsted's) and ordered two soft drinks. That helped the severe dry-mouth I had, but did nothing to alleviate the shaking and foggy perception. My motion was shaky, as if I were drunk, but I was trembling violently and could barely keep from spilling the drinks on myself. I saw the bartender pick up the phone and she began to press some buttons... was she calling the cops on me? Was I being overly paranoid? I've never before seen a bartender make a phone call and she was glancing at me frequently with concern in her eyes...
I might have been high, but I wasn't stupid, so I left more than enough money on the counter and got out of there as quickly as my trembling legs would take me... out into the dark streets where I hopefully wouldn't be noticed. I hobbled all the way back home and passed out in my bed. The walk home was nice, though. The trembling gave way to fast-paced walking, and the lights on campus were all the more beautiful and surrealistic.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And the next day, I drove to Mexico to get some Ketamine. Ketamine is an anaesthetic/tranquilizer typical used on animals and sometimes humans in surgical procedures. It's illegal in the USA because of the high potential for abuse (not just by club druggies, but also date-rapists, as it's even stronger than Rhohypnol and much easier to apply). I, of course, being beyond such immoral behaviour, sought to obtain ketamine for legitimate reasons. According to that article, it may help in depression - even those with severe, major depression whom haven't responded to standard therapies and medications. The article claims that ketamine apparently "re-boots" the brain, so that old, heavily engrained negative thought patterns, behaviours, emotions, feelings, and conditioning can be "re-set" to more positive ones.
Worth a try, right? I know what you're thinking... "aren't you experimenting with drugs? isn't that bad?" what have I got to lose, except some money, obviously? If this is the magic bullet that once and for all kills the werewolf of psychotic depression and suicidiality, it's worth a try, right? Hey, it's not like you tried to help me, so don't tell me to stop trying to help myself.
The Mexican doctor I spoke to had not read that article, but he did know that many people use it to treat insomnia. Just a couple of drops in a glass of water, he told me, and I'll be out like a lamp. "I can't promise that it will make you feel better; but it will certainly make you sleep better."
That made me think of Natasha... I could easily drop another $150 to get a bottle for her, but it was just too risky... When you cross the border, if you get caught with that shit, it's a serious penalty. But it's much worse if you get caught with quantities that makes them think that it wasn't for your personal use. I could always say I was going to kill myself with the tranquilizer, in which case, if they believed me, I wouldn't be sent to a real prison or fined, but two bottles is wayyyyy more than you need for suicide, so I don't think they'd believe it...
Damn flesh; always trying to cultivate friendships for human affection... "she's not your friend, she never was your friend, and she'll never be your friend. Get over it. In one of her recent posts, she claims to be getting more sleep, so she's fine without your generousity - and besides, she didn't accept the other things you offered her; why would she now? Do you really think she magically became more rational and approachable? Now you're the one who's being irrational - forget about it."
Well, if I knew that the CBP agent wasn't even going to look at my bags or ask me why I was in Mexico, I would have definitly got some more ketamine; but that's all in retrospect now. I'll let you know how it goes ^_^