|Setting:||Around the city|
|Name||Dosage||Route of Administration|
|4-AcO-DMT||25-30 mg||Oral in solution|
I’ve been depressed as hell lately I want to try and pull myself away from all of it. I had 265 mg in a bag. I measured out roughly 500 mL of water (imprecise measurements, don’t do this!) and dissolved the 265 mg in there. That was a little more than 1 mg/2mL. I then measured out (again, very rough) 50 mL of water and put it in a separate bottle. This I would take with me on my journey. I did 1500 ug of 25i-NBOH a little more than a week ago, so I have that in my system, probably dampening the full effect of my dose.
I get off a bus and chug down the bottle. It’s nauseatingly bitter. I walk towards my safe place, a secluded spot under a bridge where if things get too intense I won’t make a scene.
Getting the first feelings- a floaty body and a generally uplifting rushing feeling. It approaches. I reach my safe place and smoke a bowl. With each hit I take, I can feel myself sinking deeper. I feel heavier and slower. Sounds begin to warp around me. Its building and building.
I look up to the sky and find it drifting and breathing with patterns. Every ray of sun cuts through the glassy cold atmosphere and glistens on the frigid trees, all breathing and swirling with color. I am weightless yet glued to the ground where I sit. My mouth twists into a smile and I giggle. The sound of cars running over the bridge above me echo and warp and drone and shake as they wiggle down to me below. I decide I’m lucid enough to be in public. I walk into the park nearby and sit by a pond. The ground is covered in snow and the setting sun glows dull and melancholy on it. The air feels blue, everything feels cold and blue, as if a chilling mist has settled on the landscape. I am shivering violently, part the usual tremors in reaction to most drugs I take, part being really cold. I lie down on a rock and bask in the swirling breathing cold that surrounds me. Visuals are pretty light, the trees appear to contain repeating patterns and they swirl and breathe, but that’s about it. Nothing all-consuming and they can be ignored if I want to (but why would I want to?).
I am lying on this rock, thinking blue thoughts in the blue world. It feels like I’m sinking into the rock, like my frigid body has become joined to this frigid stone. It is like there is a blanket being pulled tightly over me, binding me in place. I hoped a tryptamine would be more kind to me emotionally than my recent phenethylamine experiences have been. So that doesn’t seem to be the case. Still the same ill emotions amplified in me. Still the same sadness, the same grim outlook on life, the same fear of a future as bleak as the cold blue air today. I close my eyes and I am consumed by the closed eyed visuals, concentric patterns flashing and pulsing with color. That was neat I guess. I sigh and stand up, the cold hugging my body and forcing me to shiver. The snow is dancing with colors but I feel so sad and disappointed. “same old bullshit, same old same old”
I am feeling a bit better as I walk. I’m feeling more confident and beginning to realize all these ill thoughts-the social paranoia, the pessimistic view of the future- are not objective things, it’s my perception of these things that decides how they make me feel, and I may have the power to break free of everything and change that. I may have the power to dismiss the delusional paranoid thoughts as toxic delusions, I have the power of dismissal, I feel it now more than ever before. I feel like I am being cleansed, like this chemical is washing my mind free of every horrible thought that pollutes my mind and poisons it into self-destructive illness. I sit on a bench and watch the orange rays of sun cut through the icy blue air and glance off the icy surface of the river. I smile, everything will be better, I will be better. I’ve spent my entire life hating myself, I need to try something else now, it was just not working. I sit at the steps of the art museum overlooking the city and think about how many stories I’ve spun in the space before me, all the experiences I’ve experienced, all the things only I have felt and known that I can only dream of sharing with others. Regardless of whether or not I can share these, I know they only exist in my mind and no one else’s. Once I’m dead, those memories, those stories are all gone. They aren’t recorded, they only exist in one place, and its up to me to preserve that one place as long as I can. I put so much work into living and into being and into exploring the world around me, and I needed to do more of that for as long as I could because there was so much world to create and so much world to explore, I couldn’t waste that by hating myself and killing myself.
After aimlessly sitting for a while I set off across the city. The 2 hours that followed were wonderful and beautiful. I walk around the city, taking in the experience of a million people around me and the monument to living they have created around me. I take joy in all the people around me in the street, every building. I am brimming with confidence in how comfortably I exist in this space together with all these people. Visuals hardly exist anymore, but I definitely FEEL high. Very high. Sounds still dance and warp. After wandering the city for a while I return to my school and relax and warm up.
Conclusion / Aftermath
Beautiful life changing trip. Cannot articulate how beautiful it was. Not very visual or extremely strong, maybe due to the tolerance I built up. The lessons I thought I learned would end up not sticking, as nothing ever does. It turns out I am much less in control of things than I had thought.