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About cxsxlx

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  1. This is either a troll or one way ticket to self-destruction...and not in a good way.
  2. This spring marked the three year anniversary of what I'd consider to be my first glimpse of awakening, which was brought on by my first mushroom trip at age 21. I had lived a very unconscious life up until that point; a foundation based around my own intellect and how I had perceived myself to be above others simply because I knew more facts or scientific processes. Mushrooms opened the floodgates of existence and continued to do so over 12 experiences through the next two years. Eventually, I decided to move on and try RC tryptamines. On my 4th RC trip, I got greedy and careless. My relationship of 3 years had gone south, so I planned to move back home with my parents for a few months to spend time with family and figure my own life out. Right before leaving the city, my fresh pack of 250 mg 4 ACO DMT had arrived. I'd never done this particular compound, and I was already feeling a tad careless, so I went to my studio space in my father's building (a 120 year old funeral home) and told myself "You're having a breakthrough tonight." I did. I was aware of the awareness experiencing itself. The first full awakening. All I could do was cry for half an hour at the absolute awe of this realization. And then it went bad about 2 1/2 hours in. I had no idea how much powder I had ingested; later measured to be roughly 80 mg. I crawled to a trashcan and proceed to puke until the only thing exiting my body was blood from my shredded esophagus. And then I feel the body begin to shut down. As I start fading in and out, fighting off what I believe was a seizure trying to come on, I can hear voices - are they higher self or something outside? Am I hearing voices from those long passed but still within the walls of the funeral home? Somehow, I'm able to retrieve my phone from my pocket, dial home and mutter out "I need help". After completing the call and continuing to fade, a familiar voice cuts through, I recognize it as my grandfather who had passed one year earlier. The voice says "Not time yet", and then I'm being carried to the car by my father and off to the hospital. It takes about two hours for my heart to become stable, with the afterglow of the trip lasting well into the morning. The feeling of present awareness lasts for about a week, and then PTSD replaces it. It was brought on by a vivid dream two nights after where I could see my father weeping over me, taking it upon himself to be the one to prepare the corpse I had once inhabited. I see all my friends and family mourning. I follow their lives months and years into the future. Few were ever able to regain a sense of normalcy or shed the sadness. This is (currently) my last psychedelic experience. For the next eight months, I have no dreams whatsoever. All I feel is the stress of the realization of how close I was to death, how irresponsible I had been, and how much trauma it put my parents through. Because of all this and the last dream, part of me begins to believe I had died and entered some form of purgatory. As if all I have to do is make peace with what happened and the consciousness would be allowed to move on to whatever's next. Meditations yield no results during this time. They lead to frustration and panic. Weed becomes the bandaid that I slap over the top of the wound. Nine days ago from the time of writing this, I decided to step out of the cannabis shadow. Not that it was really by choice, I was taking a trip with a friend to visit our old college roommates, so I knew the withdrawal would be hell the first few days. Only the withdrawal never came. A sinus infection did instead, masking all the would-be symptoms. Upon returning from the weekend getaway, the infection really had me worn down. So I turned to NyQuil to at least get a little rest. Take it, lay down, and begin to focus on the darkness behind the eyelids. After a few minutes of this, I begin to feel my body vibrate. A vortex appears out of the dark, drawing me up it faster and faster until finally breaking through into what I can only describe and believe to be the Void of Absolute Infinity. And for the first time in 8 months, I feel completely at ease. As if all of the stress and trauma that had been accumulating during that time just dissipated in an instant. All of a sudden, dreams began to flow like a well tapped into an infinite aquifer. Little stressors which would have normally bothered me became insignificant. Musical ideas came out of nowhere the way they did when I was 17 and had no real understanding of what I was doing. For the first time ever, I feel whole and can enjoy present reality at any moment while being completely sober. Three days now it's been. It's felt like an eternity. It's felt like no time has passed whatsoever. There's nothing to seek. It's all right before me, all around me. It's me. I am.