My fourth acid trip was my only bad acid trip, and it was the worst experience of my life. I dropped at 5 p.m. with a group of super friendly people I had just met at a party the day before. The first few hours were incredible. I also did a lot of nitrous oxide. It felt euphoric like my brain was orgasming. Then we went on the roof, and things started to get unpleasant. The buildings were melting. Everyone seemed to be acting strange, like Sim characters. My brain wasn’t processing information correctly. It felt like things were not happening in a typical sequence. I remember asking, “I will get less high with time right?” And “Does anyone else feel abnormal?” My new friends were giving kind answers, which helped, like “Yes, with time you’ll be less high,” and “no, we don’t feel normal either.” They kept trying to reassure me by reminding me I was probably just very high.
It’s Getting Stronger
When we returned downstairs, things ultimately fell apart. I started realizing I was getting more high, not less high, so I rationalized my new friends didn’t know what they were talking about. A girl who snapped at her boyfriend for sitting next to me was trying to take a nitrous oxide whip-it, but she was doing it wrong. It frustrated me that she couldn’t do something so simple, so I demonstrated. That made me even higher.
Bad Acid Trip at the Peak
At this point, I could no longer speak properly. I remember thinking, “nothing is real unless you say it aloud.” I asked, out loud, “is nothing real unless you say it out loud?” My kind friend responded, “things are still real even if you don’t say them out loud.” I nodded. What he said made sense. Under the influence of acid, I experienced so many things I could not even begin to explain in words. Compared to what I was experiencing, words felt like a total joke.
I sunk into the couch and time started to move backward. I realized I had lost my mind. An inner voice told me my mind was about to be blown, but the same thing kept happening over and over again and over again. It was like inception, but I could not wake up. I started to fear I would never wake up from this nightmare. I worried I had figured out the meaning of life, the secret of The Universe. There was no God, only The Devil, and The Devil wanted me to suffer for eternity. My friend gave me a Xanax, and I thought maybe that would help, but it didn’t. He gave me another Xanax. It didn’t help either. At this point, I no longer cared about consequences. I was willing to do anything to escape. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. I didn’t know what was real. I thought that maybe my family loved me, but I wasn’t sure, so I called my dad.
My new friends were horrified, but I didn’t care. I heard my dad’s voice and told him I wanted to die. He sounded anxious and told me not to do anything stupid. He apologized for putting any pressure on me to get a job, which didn’t make any sense to me. I told him I don’t care. I don’t care. I need to die. He said that every year, people commit suicide, but he never expected me to express suicidal thoughts. He said I had always seemed like a pleased and relaxed person. I agreed. Back in my old, fake life, I had been a delighted and relaxed person. But now I saw the truth. My life up until this point had been a lie, and now I had figured out the fact, and the truth is this hell. I began to wonder if this is what drove people to kill themselves. Since I did not understand suicide before this moment, I thought maybe now I realized it. Perhaps every person who committed suicide had been experiencing this realization. And I would do it too if I could not wake up. I told him to tell my brother to get me. My friend took the phone from me and spoke to my dad. My brother eventually showed up, and I said: “I need to die.” My kind friend gave me one more Xanax.
I was begging everyone to help me die. I said I wanted to take all the Xanax so I could die. I desired to jump off the building to end this dream. They said I would make people upset if I killed myself, so I begged them to tranquilize me. My kind friend said they could take me to the hospital to sedate me if I wanted. I said yes, please tranquilize me. Just end this bad acid trip. Eventually, the Xanax kicked in and I took a nap. The bad acid trip was over when I woke up.
I had to call my dad the next day and explain acid to him. He was not pleased.
I still haven’t processed this experience of a bad acid trip entirely. I don’t understand the voice that was narrating during the trip. It kind of feels like my brain saw infinity. I don’t know how to put it in words. It feels like I saw everything at once, from the beginning to the end.
I really can’t process it.
I never wanted to die. I love life. I think I was trying to control the experience somehow because I was in mental anguish. I learned that I am probably pretty weak, and I can’t handle much suffering. I want out of the suffering, and maybe the only way to get out of my head was to tell someone who loves me (my dad & brother) that I want to kill myself. I’m not entirely sure.
I know my brain saw something infinite, and it scared me. Nothing else mattered compared to what I saw.