5-MEO-MiPT

Lest anyone doubt the psychedelic potency of this substance, an encounter with it has reminded me that tripping is not all sunflowers and daisies. Sometimes a trip, instead of bringing out the cosmic wonder, ends up dredging up the psychic pain. I suppose it happens in a much more insightful, productive way than in the everyday reactive mind (as L. Ron would put it), but it's not what I would call A+++ would buy again.

For two substances, in the space of barely a week, to have given me such contrasting views of my state of nature is pretty remarkable to me. I guess there are two lessons: lay off the drugs for a bit, and there's only so much into-the-fire to be had. One chooses to spend more time with the upside.

too much is just the right amount

sometimes i'm pretty insensible

A most beautiful walk in the snow

The end of need. The beginning of acceptance. All it was was a walk.

It feels as if one's full self has been unearthed. It cries out.

Shoe

Agony on the subway

All that mattered was that I be given some sign to disrupt my doubts about him. I craned forward to look at his cart, stuffed with just a few too many things to be quite respectable. A jacket, slightly old, not quite clean, not quite dirty. Hunched, busily eating from a styrofoam box. Plastic grocery bags holding things, slightly ragged and discoloured in a way that comes from long use. At least if he had a family, I wouldn't care if he was a slob, or a weirdo or even a bum. Everyone's gotta have a family.

It takes a really enlightened person to be happy and just not give a damn about what kind of presentation he's giving to me. He could be a bum, but he could just be an oddity. A happy oddity with a family and a life that didn't suck. His face was vaguely familiar. It was painful. I might look a bit like that in thirty years. He didn't look that bad. He was clean-shaven.

I stayed past my usual stop looking for last-second clues. He picked up a newspaper and read it. I could read this any number of ways. He stuffed it into his already cluttered cart. I had seen larger and messier bum-carts before, and some totally happy people just want to push all their junk around in a cart. I didn't want to feel bad about this guy. As long as he had someone waiting for him at the end of that subway ride I was fine with it.

I want to project a happy life onto strangers who bring out my insecurities. I'm arguably either an extremely privileged, successful person, or a deadbeat.

Creepypasta

It has been reported that some victims of torture, during the act, would retreat into a fantasy world from which they could not WAKE UP. In this catatonic state, the victim lived in a world just like their normal one, except they weren’t being tortured. The only way that they realized they needed to WAKE UP was a note they found in their fantasy world. It would tell them about their condition, and tell them to WAKE UP. Even then, it would often take months until they were ready to discard their fantasy world and PLEASE WAKE UP