Grip nosleep

I thought that it would be cool, smoking my first blunt with my brother and friend. It was for a time. The first experience is always the most intense. The feeling of your vision becoming clearer, the rhythmic pulsations of your racing heart while you try to make sense of everything, and let's not forget the instant two second epiphanies. I just don't understand how some people can make light of how intense weed can be, like it's some first level noob substance. Well, for me, it is the reason for my collapse.

I only smoked it with my friend who we nicknamed “Cat.” I thought that if I stuck around someone who was an experienced stoner, I would remain sane. I never went out to buy it on my own. I don't even know how to roll. He taught me how long of a puff to take to get results out of the blunt and to hold in my throat to get higher. I was foolish to think that someone with a low tolerance like me could sustain a full blunt without losing it. It simply would've been smarter to take a few hits to have a sense of where I was, but I fear it's too late...

I didn't start to get the negative thoughts until I smoked one particular blunt. This one may have been laced. I know a low tolerance high, and this wasn't it. It was late at night, and you'd hear the usual raucous of the urban nightlife. We sat on my porch, which was about two stories up. I wasn't afraid of heights until this day. It was just me and Cat smoking this one. I started out ok; I was looking for my regular high, but three puffs later and I could feel “it.” This was not the same as all the other times I smoked. I felt like I was planted inside the ground, unable to move. My palms were getting sweaty, and I had the worst cottonmouth imaginable.

Naively, I decided to smoke more with Cat because I didn't want to look like a lightweight who couldn't hold its own. I was on my seventh toke and that's when my mind frenzied. The world was spinning, I could consciously hear my breathing become panicked, and all of my deepest darkest fears rose to the surface. I had a thing about eyes that disturbed me as a kid. I watched 28 days later around the age of 7 or 8. I wasn't ready to watch that movie with the mindset of a child. There was one brutal scene toward the end of the movie where the protagonist saves the woman he loves from being raped. He grabs an evil soldier and bashes his head on the walls and throws him to the ground and beats him to death. He finishes him off by gouging his eyes out with his thumbs. It looked so real, and I couldn't fathom dying that way. I was traumatized by it.

My mind went into kill-mode on that porch. I couldn't think rationally. My thoughts suicidal. I thought to myself: “What if I jumped off of this porch?” “How would it feel to break every bone in my body?” I told Cat that I had to go back inside to sleep the high off, but I couldn't sleep. The ceiling fan looked evil to me, like there was a hole in one of the lights where someone was staring at me. A deep dark dilated eye just plotting against me. I swear that I was staring at that ceiling fan for what seemed like hours! Suddenly, the eye grew larger, and a black shadowy hand reached out toward my face.

This is where things stared to get worse. I got out the bed from what felt involuntary, and walked to the kitchen to drink some milk from the carton, no cup or anything. Something or someone was telling me that milk was the devil's nectar, so I stopped drinking it. I stood dormant staring at the refrigerator for a millennia. Cat walked in the kitchen because he heard me rambling inaudibly, this is where my thoughts turned homicidal. I took one look at him and wanted to kill him the worst way possible. My dear friend! A small glimmer of my consciousness was trying to restrain me. I could see myself shooing him away, but I couldn't control myself doing it. He kept asking if I was alright. Fuck no I wasn't alright!

He went back into my room to play some video games. I don't pray often, but I was on my knees praying to let these thoughts go away. They didn't subside. I got up and left the kitchen, and when I walked past my room and saw Cat playing the video game it felt like a dark shadow of me lunged out and growled at him. I could hear it, but he couldn't. It's like I had marked him for death. I thought about gouging his eyes out as hard as I could while he was screaming helplessly. The bellowed cries he would let out, but my consciousness kept me from going in that room with him.

I walked to the living room where my dad was, and lied on the couch to try to sleep again. I told him that I was scared of something like a demon. I didn't think he knew I was stoned. I can't quite remember what he was saying, but I remember the feeling of being near him. It felt peaceful like everything was going to be ok. I drifted off to sleep and woke up like my normal self.

I still remember everything about that day. I get those thoughts from time and again, but they aren't as intense. I don't know what happened to me that day. Was that regular weed? Laced perhaps? Was I possessed by some homicidal spirit? I don't know. I will quit smoking though. I don't like those thoughts and I'm never myself when I'm high. I still think of murdering my friend when I'm sober! Am I going insane?!

I can't seem to... get a grip.

Submitted May 27, 2017 at 10:06PM by ZealousFeet http://ift.tt/2rJTwet nosleep