Becoming An Electron; A Salvia Experience

Talking about some things is hard for my morally complex brain. I'd held the blame for everything most of my life, but too much of it was part of the reason it incapacitated me. Feeling like the worst person in the world. It's why I try to write only my story. I didn't blame anyone before, short of my bullies, and I'd only grow up with a multitude of more reasons not to. People hate the statement, but it really all is just what it is. I wouldn't want Juliet to read the story, for example, because I wouldn't have held onto it if I wanted her to have the blame in the first place. It's not going to do her any good.

Another reason I tell these stories is because these are the few times I can remember, write, and say, "Yeah, I don't claim to be an angel. Only unheard," I didn't want to paint a misrepresentation of myself, but my reality is that I never remembered my meltdowns. I'd write about 1000 pages and finally ask Mother Teresa to indulge me in the memories she had about that 'terrible kid'. She only replied, "You really weren't that bad of a kid, I don't remember many incidents outside what you've told me," It was a product of how little even my parents really knew, but I also burst out, "Then how did high school happen?!"

Talking about drugs is no less of a moral challenge. I write them as vibrantly as I'd write anything else, but I don't glorify them. I most recently came across an interview with Bill Burr who'd taken mushrooms and had major life revelations. Tom Segura asked if he endorsed them and Bill said, "No, how the eff am I supposed to know what it's going to do for you?" Much the mantra I've held for a long time.

This story isn't about mushrooms, but Salvia, the second drug I'd try. Initially I'd been good with just the pot, but another herb started floating around the school. Much like pot, it was grown in the ground and completely legal. It was the legality of it that drew me in. It couldn't possibly be dangerous if it was legal and Marijuana wasn't.

I'd heard stories, stories Major Jory would realize were the same stories I'd hear about acid. One floated around the schools underworld about a boy who'd tried it once and screwed up his whole life. The drug was supposed to last only 5-10 minutes, but this kids apparently lasted his whole life. He started the trip as a packet of mustard, and would grow up into a bottle. The thought of becoming mustard my whole life was scary, but seemed too far fetched.

I went over to Milli's, he had some. I arrived nervous. Nervous that I'd freak out, but the length of the trip meant that I wouldn't be freaking out for long at least. I had them go over the procedure many times, and much like other hallucinogens, the best advice was to be in a good frame of mind. I sat there unsure of how to accomplish that being worried about becoming mustard in the back of my mind.

I took the hit and winced at the nasty taste. It tasted quite like Marijuana smelt before I liked the smell. I held it in for the required time before exhaling. I requested Bob Marley, hoping it would induce calming effects and keep me in a happy frame of mind. A weird boy had entered an unfamiliar world, the drug world, so what made sense was stereotypes.

The world grew dark, and I started to glow. My body got heavy as I sat on the couch. A glowing proton had formed in the middle of the room while a force took over my body; I became locked into an orbital rotation I could not escape. I'd become the electron, floating around it. I had no control, I force tugged in front of me, and I followed it's direction around the proton. I started to freak out, worried the quite like a boy had become mustard, I was going to be a lowly electron for the rest of my life.\

I tried to break away from the atom and be my own, but that was very painful. The audience had become aware that I was gone and they started to laugh. Their bodies and heads melted away as they became chattering teeth. I was pretty good on my experience now, feeling exhausted and heavy. I let the molecular game play out until light started reemerging from the borders of the periphery.

Milli asked if I was back while I sat their zapped of energy, "I think so..." I said processing. They were curious of my experience, and I told them but my obvious reality hadn't stuck out for them like it had for me. "Even when I take drugs, I can't escape my weird brain," They wouldn't be phased by such a statement. I realized writing a book, that I don't think I told anyone up to this point that I wanted to be a Microbiologist. If I'd told anyone, I'd have to imagine it was Koki.