Gonna walk right through this town again
2003-09-24 | 11:11 p.m.

Still sick. Really, retardedly sick. I worked tonight though, for the record. I felt like a complete asshole because I didn't ask people how they were doing or how they liked the weather or how they liked their eggs. Actually, I never ask them how they like their eggs, but maybe I should after being such a quiet jerk tonight.

I switched tenses in that sentance and it's bothering me.

So, erm... what's up, Internet? Sorry I haven't been hanging around with/on you very much lately. I'm trying to sleep off this infection but my friends didn't get the clue when I failed to shower or even get dressed this morning, and decided to drag me to Subway and then hang around my house watching stupid movies I can't even remember the titles of before going to a loud volleyball tournament in hopes of setting me up with any one of a number of boys that I don't give a damn about.

That's it, that's my day, in one run-on sentance.

My parents fought tonight. My parents never fight. The power also went out. Then the sky split and it rained frogs. Actually, that last part was a lie, but if I keep up with the cold meds I may be able to trick myself into thinking I see that. It'd be my weirdass mushroom trip, all over again.

Speaking of that mushroom trip, remember all the hell I went through afterwards? Remember how it stopped pretty abruptly? Remember how I didn't really explain it very well? Remember how I should just link to entries about this shit instead of asking a bunch of stupid questions? Remember how I thought it was funny to keep doing this? Remember how it wasn't actually funny at all, but I was just emotionally drained and spun on sugar and cold meds?

Anyway, ponder the fact that if you drink enough cough syrup, the DXM in it will cause tremendous hallucinations. Hallucinations of truly epic proportions. Think of that while I go retrieve a notebook.

...

"Tuesday, end of August sometime, 2003. 4:00 a.m.

I woke up after a measly 2 hours of sleep. My trip is making me a little paranoid again. I think going to bed with wet hair makes me remember the sweat, and all the damn yellow in my cottage room reminds me of the yellow in the walls the instant before they started to bleed. I would really like to talk to another human being tonight. I should swallow my pride and look into calling a counsellor again. It's probably not a great idea to go overseas with a case of paranoia developing under the "calm" exterior.

I'm not tired, but I know I should be sleeping..."

That sounds a lot more subdued, looking back on it. I was almost in the throes of a full-on panic attack. But not ONCE since then have I had to close my eyes because I remember the shadows on the walls of my room morphing into what they were during The Trip. Not once since then have I tiptoed up the stairs, afraid to look at the carpet because the blood underneath may rise to the surface and touch my toes. Not once since then have I crept into the kitchen late at night and seen nothing but crimson food and purple light.

Sure, sanity gets boring, but man, do I ever value it again. I'm definitely of sound mind again now. Every so often I consider taking mushrooms again, but then again, every so often I dream of getting insane tattoos that I would most likely regret someday. I think my experience with hallucinogens forced me to face a lot of monsters in my closet. Literally. No, I'm just fucking around. But it did help me to realize that there's some things I'm just not comfortable with. Once I started to figure out what some of the symbolism of it, uh... was, things started falling into place. (I'm not real smooth with the words tonight, bear with me.) So who knows, maybe my next trip (if there ever is a next) will be the ride of a lifetime. Or maybe I'll surprise everyone and finally figure out how to keep myself entertained with my own mind.

I never would have cut it in the 60's.

-S

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