| Current mood: | contemplative |
| Current music: | Sugarcubes |
death disquised as fungus
I thought I was going to die Saturday night. An extremely drunken fun night ended with me eating mushrooms, and maybe it was just a bad combination, but other people got all crazy off them too. I looked all cracked out and twitchy with eyes like quarters. Usually when contemplating death on psychedelics I get a calm, energy cannot be created or destroyed and we are all a part of infinite circles where death is unavoidable yet impermanent. Not last night. It was too intense, I closed my eyes and everything was focused inward, tracking down and analyzing every flaw of my diseased flesh, and I was afraid of getting old and sick, sure that I had put poisen in my body, that I was not right, and was going to die a melted pile on my floor and that nobody would really notice. So I swore to myself and any god who would listen that if I made it through the night that I would never do drugs again. I don't know where I stand on that today, but know that I need to take care of myself, because even if people walk me home and drunkenly bandage my stumble wounds that I alone am the keeper of my mortality and that I still have a lot of important shit to do. It bothered me though that I talked to my ex and told him about it and that I thought if I had of died that night that nobody would be surprised....and he agreed with me. Makes me wonder how much I am really becoming this reckless character whom I like to portray.
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