It's not cool anymore!

Tabfest was a good time but not great.  I sometimes hear stories from people who went to festivals and didn't have that much fun.  This used to perplex me, how could you not have fun at a no-holds-barred funfest?  Well, I had one of those times.

Don't get me wrong, it was a fun vacation between summer sessions and I needed to get away.  But I come from Tabfest in a different state of mind.  Perhaps grown up a little more.  Since I've been to college, I've had trouble saying "no".  Just about any time you ask me to drink, get high, or have sex, I say "yes".   This is a dangerous way to live, and up until this weekend, it had been my approach to life. 

With this "just say 'yes!'" way of life, you'd think that something like Tabfest would be my escape into psychedelia.  It started out that way...

This place was different than the other festival I had been to.  The people were not as friendly, the place was poorly arranged for festivals, and (to quote Ben Harper) "The drugs [didn't] work."  Well they worked alright, there wasn't a sober person to be found there, but things would turn sour for me.  The first night was fun, but not the blast that I remember from Sunshine Daydream.  In fact, by day 2 I wasn't really in the mood for hard stuff. 

Sometime in the afternoon, without having taken any form of psychedelic drug that day, things got trippy.  Trippy is not always good, especially when you look at a friend beside you, only to see that they have a different face.  They sound just like your friend, but they look like someone you have never met before.  I lost a sense of history, I couldn't account for the last few months of my life. 

Am I still a student at Ohio U? 
How long have I known these people?  A day? A week?  Years? 
What drugs have I done today? Ecstasy? Acid? Mescaline?
Am I dreaming or is this reality?

I began to get scared, my friend beside me, still sounding like herself, had an appearance like a total stranger.  I'm not sure what I must have said or done there, but everybody was fucked up so I doubt it mattered.  I fled to the woods, our campsite, to find Crystal, my ground, the one friend there that for some reason I knew would understand and help.  I came to see her, and explained what was happening, but I have the feeling few words left my mouth.  There was no way to differentiate from what was happening in my head and what I was actually doing.   I'm sure I was blabbing about some nonsense: Which reality is true?  How do I choose it?

Things then got worse.  It felt like someone grabbing my head.  Everything faded away.  The band playing off in the distance faded to silence.  The bright green, forest around me became a black room.  In this room, I was sitting alone.  The once green ground transformed into patchwork, then into a red oriental carpet, filling the whole room.  In the middle of the room I could see the campfire in front of me, but it was in an open fireplace.  In the distance I saw what looked like distant silhouetted people moving about.  Even Crystal seemed to fade away into the black walls.

Confused and scared, I yelled at the top of my lungs, "OH MY GOD!"  Suddenly, I was back at the campsite, Crystal was minding her own business.  Realizing I had just screamed aloud, I covered my mouth.  I asked Crystal if she heard me scream, she had not.  "maybe you should lie down."

I went to the tent to sleep, but sleep did not come.  Lying down helped somewhat, at least I was alone, nobody for my mind to trick me about.  My heart was racing, it felt like I couldn't breathe deep enough.  

Am I dying?  I've asked myself that question much more than I would like.

The hallucinations seemed to be subsiding, I decided I should write my thoughts into my book so that I could perhaps analyze my condition when things came back to normal.  Here are some excerpts:

"No more drugs! Don't give in! It's not worth it."

"I don't like what I've become. People change faces. Its not cool anymore man. I am causing permanent damage."

"There is nothing cool about this anymore"

"I abuse my privilege, health, and person.  At least I'm well liked."

"Am I in a coma?"

I was right in every assessment, except the coma one.  I could finally see the wrongs in my ways.  I could see what drugs were doing to me, I could see how much better life could be without them. 

When I started doing drugs in high school, nothing felt cooler.  One of the main reasons I started was because of how cool it made me feel.  "I'm not afraid to do it.  I'm immune to the consequences of my actions. I'm just having fun"  This was my justification.  Drugs aren't cool anymore, they just aren't worth it for me.

I take advantage of my privilege, I continue to get mediocre grades despite my parents sacrifice to send me to school.  I take my health for granted and never consider the toll the drugs are taking on my body.  I abuse my privilege of person?  That doesn't really make sense.  maybe I meant personality.  I suppose that works, the drugs I've done have no doubt altered my personality, make me think and act differently than I used to.  Perhaps negatively, perhaps positively, you decide.

I am causing permanent damage!
At least I'm well liked.  Am I?

I was not myself during this moment.  I suppose it could be called a moment of clarity.  Even though everything was not clear, I could see many things as I had never before been able to accept.  I know its trite, but I could see "the error in my ways".  I was not myself, but when was the last time I had been?  At that time I had no answer for that question; I still do not.

The beginning and the drug-free end of the weekend were a good time; it was good to be with friends.  I hope to continue my drug-free streak and maybe even start getting good grades.  This may be a new chapter in my life, I hope this works out.  I'm excited to see what I can do.