Shroooom!

Woo! What a fucking night.

Wednesday night (Thursday morning?) I shroomed with a couple of friends. It's always such a sudden decision ("You have boomers? Well, I have money! Give that shit here!") and I always end up doing them that night ("I don't have classes til 11! No worries!").

Downed a full eighth myself, and still am going to need more to get good visuals. Goddammit. Still an incredible night. One of the girls I did them with, Ali, had never done them before. Looking back, it's really funny. Beforehand, she was really nervous and a little freaked, and we talked her down, and as soon as they kicked in, she started asking "why people wouldn't want to feel like this all the time?"

The other thing I love about shrooming is the connectivity you have with whoever else you're with. I always feel closer to the people I do it with, always. Just getting fucked up together and sharing a freaky experience.

I always feel like shadows are shifting and waving when I'm hopped up on psilocybin. And I stared at myself in the mirror for like five minutes. But I came away totally satisfied with myself. Quite frankly, I'm awesome. That's not meant to be conceited, just true.

I realized a couple of things on my voyage this time, aside from how awesome I am. One: I like shrooms because they intensify the gibbering madness in my head and makes it normal, makes it okay, makes it acceptable. The second is that, while I am not addicted to anything, I could live on the streets, surviving from fix to fix, if I had to. I could live like that. I could be okay with that. Which is more than a little frightening.

But it's okay. I've come to terms with it. I've made my peace. And it's time to move on.