The end of my first binge
By Friday, I had been up for 4 days, and Jeremy and Sydney had been up for much longer. I honestly don’t know how long they had been binging for – they never told me – but they admitted by the end of the trip that they’d been going for a bit longer than I had. I was working on closing at work that night – I had let Jeremy just drop me off, and he and Sydney held onto my car for the day. They promised not to go anywhere, but I had told them I would buy them each a pack of cigarettes if they cleaned out my filthy car. They came by work to see me, and helped me change the trash outside, and I bought them their smokes. While they were there, though, they suggested that we trip acid together when I get off of work. Sydney was currently staying with his grandfather, since his grandmother had temporarily kicked him out, so he was actually able to leave and come stay the night at my place. Jeremy claimed that we could just drop a tab of acid and pass out since we’d all been up so long (save for my one tweak nap), and have some crazy dreams. I didn’t have much experience with acid, I’d only done it twice with some really weak shit compared to what we got this time, so I fully believed it would go about the way J claimed it would. I pulled some money out of the ATM, gave it to Jeremy and the boys left to meet their dealer to get 3 tabs of acid.
After work, we all sneaked into my apartment. Harold told me when I first moved in that he doesn’t want drugs in the apartment, which is totally understandable. But I figured hey, it’s just acid. Surely we can hide this. When you and everyone with you is tripping, you are not going to be able to hide that you are all tripping balls.
I think it was about 1 AM when we all took our tabs of acid. I was totally unprepared for what happened next. My previous acid trips were so incredibly minor compared to this. Sure, I’d had visuals, but never this strong – I was still functional other times. This had me fucked the hell up. The first thing I noticed was that I could not wear my glasses. The contrast was too much for me to handle, and it freaked me out. I took them off, and when I wiped my eyes on my shirt, I swear to god I got sucked into another universe. It was probably only a few seconds, but I felt like it lasted for at least half an hour. I could see stars zooming around me, I felt myself moving as though I were lightweight (even though I wasn’t actually moving at all), and the only thing I can think to compare it to is when you’re too stoned to function and you’re riding in a car while it’s snowing – take that and multiply it by about 100 and that’s about where I was in this moment.
The room started to grow wider and everyone felt far apart as we started to separate into our own little universes. Sydney was lying on the floor, for some reason. I couldn’t look at him, because the color of his shirt was upsetting my eyes. I don’t even remember what color it was! It was mostly likely red, because that’s what he always wears – he was red, Jeremy was blue, and I was green. But my memory makes me want to say it was like a pinkish peach color or some sort of orange. Whatever it was, it was bright enough that looking at it at all made me severely uncomfortable. I could see the lines in everything beginning to separate, giving it a “3D” sort of effect. Instead of one solid outline, everything had two slightly offset outlines of varying colors. Because of this, I couldn’t look at Jeremy’s face, because his beard was the most intense 3D thing of all. I swear the hairs were actually red and blue for the night, even though logically I know they couldn’t have been. Jeremy was sitting on my air mattress, playing on his phone. He was snapchatting his on and off girlfriend. I was in a corner by my closet, watching the entire room bloat and isolate us. My carpet looked like alphabet soup – the letters began to swirl in the strings and I’d swish my hand through them to scatter it all. The floor stretched apart, making the few feet between each of us seem like yards, and then miles, and then entire universes apart.
Sydney, well experienced in tripping balls of any sort, and very big on sci-fi and multiverses and such, started blowing my mind. He was telling me all sorts of things about alternate universes and timelines, and I don’t remember what the hell he did, but I have a feeling he had me going in circles. Everything he did, I swear it felt as though it were scripted. It was almost as if he’s seen some sort of trip guide movie that I had just never heard of and he knew exactly what to do to spin me in all these weird directions. He went on about time, and how it’s only a concept and an illusion, and I swear I could see a holographic digital clock displayed in front of my lava lamp. I remember some sort of significance around “the man in the red jacket.” Sydney had made sure to bring his red jacket with him (which made sense because this was late February), and for some reason whenever he put it on he became the voice of reason. Everyone knew to listen to the man in the red jacket. After an indeterminable amount of time, Sydney mentioned that we should all try to sleep. I suddenly began to panic. I can’t sleep with these two new people in my room. I am NOT comfortable sleeping around them. I tried to tell them why, but I’m fairly certain pretty much everything that came out was just gibberish.
“I can’t sleep. I mean. I won’t sleep, I’m not going to sleep, I can’t sleep with you here.”
They tried to calm me down because they could see that I was suddenly going into a panic, my first anxiety attack of the night and 3rd this week. New record.
“I can’t go to sleep, something happened, I’m not going to be able to sleep, because, I can’t, I just can’t!”
They tried to talk to me, telling me that it was okay to sleep, that I would be fine. They tried to tell me I am totally able to sleep, and I just had to calm down. They didn’t understand, and I didn’t know how to make them understand. I couldn’t get the words out, they just hurt too much. Finally, when they saw they were only causing me to freak out more, they gave up.
“Fine, fine. You don’t have to go to sleep yet. I don’t think I’m tired yet anyways.”
We decided that maybe it’d be fun to go out onto my balcony while we were high. Well, they decided that. I was terrified to leave the room. This room was all I knew, and leaving meant my roommate could catch us. It wasn’t safe. I just could not bring myself to open that door and reveal all the strange vast open space that lay on the other side. In my room, it is small and contained, there is only so much space. We are safe in here, we can keep up with each other in here, this is where we should be and where we have been. There’s so much more outside that door, I was afraid. But Sydney put on that red jacket and as I said, everyone knows to listen to the man in the red jacket – maybe this was just some sort of rule I created just in my own head but it felt like such a crucial rule for this trip. Sydney always seemed to know what he was talking about with drugs – hence his name in my contacts as “The Friendly Neighborhood Drug Enthusiast.” He reminded me that I can still function just as normally as I did when sober; I jut had to get past that barrier of thinking I can’t do it. I was letting the fact that I was tripping freak me out, and instead of overthinking every action, I just had to get up and do it. I just had to keep moving. Really, that’s not a bad lesson in general. Sydney basically taught me that the same rule applies in every day life: Don’t overthink it, just get up and do it.
Finally, they had me convinced that I would be okay. I pulled open the door and in as smooth and fluid a motion as I could manage, I walked out and into the main part of our apartment, and just kept going until we reached the balcony. Upon reaching the balcony, however, we realized we had all gotten stuck whispering. My bedroom was right beside my roommate’s, so we had all agreed to whisper; it made it easier to hide what we were doing, and being up all night, we didn’t want to wake him. Yet even when we left the room, we had spent so much time whispering that we somehow were not able to raise our voices any higher. This first trip out to the balcony was astounding. Though not the first “time loop” I got trapped in during this trip, the time loop they got me in out there was the one that stands out most in my memory. We all stood there, smoking our cigarettes, and looking out at the world. None of the other houses near us existed for this time; we were all there was. The trees stretched up into the stars, and had shadows echoing their structures. And when the boys spoke, it was yet another moment when their words felt scripted, as though they were referencing something. This one felt like they were referencing some sort of song, though I’ve never been able to find one that sounds the way everything sounded in that moment. Everything around me glowed with strange lights outlining it all, and as my cigarette reached it’s end, they both told me to throw it over the edge, their words sounding like a repetitive echo of each other. I don’t know how many cigarettes we smoked, but it felt as though we repeated this process 3 times. Each time, they would speak words that sounded like song lyrics, words I’m not even sure they ever actually said. They would end it by telling me, “throw it over.” I swear after I did they made some sort of remark saying “and now it’s over,” which added to the effect of it sounding almost song-like in nature. I could see my cherry spark and sputter out as it hit the ground, and in my tripped-out state, it appeared as though the spark would soar up and lingered in the air, staining it. The best analogy I can engineer would be comparing it to a sparkler like the children play with for Independence Day or New Year. While on the balcony, I continued to stutter and stumble, trying to explain why I could not sleep, attempting to have a heart-to-heart moment with my friends, but only gibberish would come out.
Either this first trip or the second trip to the balcony, I put a cigarette out on my arm, and then told Jeremy and Sydney, “I don’t trust myself not to hurt myself, don’t let me hurt myself; you gotta watch me.” I started freaking out, thinking too much about how I tend to be a danger to myself, with my history of self harm and multiple suicide attempts. They calmed me down and told me that they weren’t going to let me do anything stupid, that I was safe and that they fully intended to keep an eye on me since they could tell I was tripping balls.
We went back in, because my feet were freezing – I stupidly refused to put on socks, despite Sydney warning me that it was going to be cold outside, no matter how warm it may be indoors. They insisted I wear them and I refused, but I reluctantly admitted, as I was tip-toeing around the concrete ground of the balcony, that it had become too much to bear any longer. I remember very little from our trip back indoors. I know this is when I attempted to eat a vanilla wafer, which turned out to be a much more difficult feat than I ever could have imagined. I took only a small bite, a nibble at best, and it absolutely blew my mind. I both felt horrible for eating this poor little cracker-thing, and it also just tasted so amazing, so astoundingly delicious that it made me want to cry and I could not stand to take another bite. As I bit that insignificant, puny piece off, it felt as though a universe simultaneously burst into creation inside my mouth, yet at the same time imploded in on itself. I could not handle causing that Big Bang, nor could I handle the mass destruction and dismay I caused in the same way. I created and destroyed an entire universe. It sounds absolutely insane, and felt just as wild. We sat in the floor again, and over time I watched as our universes slowly grew back inwards and collided, the distance I felt earlier suddenly dissipating into an extreme closeness. It felt as though we were all sharing the same thoughts, the same mind. Every time either of them spoke, it felt like they said exactly what I had been thinking, and I had convinced myself we were all on the same wavelength. I often look back on this trip as the moment we all grew into the tight group we became, and attribute a lot of that closeness we abruptly developed to the fact that we were tripping balls and were wavering on that same wavelength. The walls grew in as my floor settled back to its normal size, the separated lines that turned everything 3D wobbled and settled back into one regular outline. I could tell that I was beginning to sober up.
On our second trip to the balcony, close to daylight, we simply stood in awe. Jeremy claims he rearranged the stars, and I watched as the trees grew arms and danced, shadows stretched up into the sky and waving, as the sky grew lighter. Just as the sun began coming up, my roommate opened the balcony door, and announced that he was leaving for work. I stood in silence and nodded, while Jeremy and Sydney, who could actually form words, told him to have fun and be careful. In hindsight, there’s no way he didn’t already know we were high as fuck.
However, my roommate’s interruption of our whispering was just what we needed to escape it. Finally, we were able to raise our voices to a normal level, both thanks to hearing a voice louder than what we had limited ourselves to, and thanks to no longer needing to hide. So I stood in silence just a moment longer, trying to figure out how to delicately break the news to my friends why I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I gracefully went with the approach of very bluntly blurting out something incredibly personal.
“Ican’tsleepwithyoutwoherebecauseIwassexuallyassaultedinmysleepinhighschool… and so now I’m scared to sleep around anyone and that’s why I’ve been freaking out and not able to actually speak and keep shutting down.”
They both stared at me in absolute shock for about a full minute. Then they turned to each other, still completely stunned. Both of them broke into a mortified awe, practically shouting, “Oooooh, holy shit, that makes so much sense now!” They were grateful to finally understand what I had been trying to say all night, and apologetic that they couldn’t understand me sooner and that I had gone through that.
Though we hung out on the balcony for a moment longer, after awhile I felt sad and wanted to be alone, so I wandered back inside, to huddle into a corner in my room. Eventually, Jeremy came in after me, and asked if I was doing okay. We sat and chatted for a second, though I can’t remember what we spoke about. I checked my phone and saw that Sydney had messaged me through Facebook. The message was just a bunch of gibberish, nonsense letters that were garbled together as he, in his distressed state, tried to convey some sort of message to me. I looked up at Jeremy, alarmed and realizing that shit was about to go really sour, really fast.
“Where is Sydney?!”
(To be continued in next post…)