***DISCLAIMER/WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT
TO RECREATE ANY OF THE EVENTS DESCRIBED IN THIS REPORT. PSYCHOACTIVE
MATERIAL IS NOTHING TO PLAY AROUND WITH AND I WOULD NOT RECOMMEND YOU
DO SO. HOWEVER, THIS EVENT DID HAPPEN AND IS AN IMPORTANT REMINDER OF
SAFETY, PROPER DOSING, AND THE RISKS YOU ARE TAKING WITH YOUR LIFE***
Forward:
Seeing an old friend stirred up some
even older memories that I felt should be documented and published
for the well-being of all researching psychonauts. This is my
first-hand report of a 2C-P overdose experienced by both myself and
my friend, Steve.
A Little Background
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
HypnotiQ: I myself, am twenty years old
and am rather experienced in the ways of exploring the psyche, it's
been one of my primary curiosities ever since I was young. By the age
of 13 I was constantly researching hallucinogenics, my primary
interest being Psilocybin Mushrooms. I'd always wanted to see visions
like I'd seen in so many cartoons before. It was an attraction so
fierce it's difficult for me to describe it, other than an intense
curiosity.
Fast forward to age twenty, I've taken
any psychoactive material of recreational value that interested me
and it'd be pointless to name them off, just know that I'm
experienced.
Steve: I met Steve at school when I was
sixteen years old, ever since then, we've been chilling and smoking
Cannabis most of the four years we've known each other. Other than
Cannabis, the only Psychotropics he'd ever touched before is one gram
of Shrooms which he claimed to be, “an awesome time”.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
It all started when I received an order
I'd previously thought would never arrive; at that point, I truly
believed that I'd been scammed by the company. It'd been around six
weeks after the money was removed from my account and two weeks after
my vendor's site had gone offline. After multiple attempts to contact
him, and having heard no word from site administrator, I'd pretty
much given up all hope of ever receiving the parcel. However, despite
all doubts, for some reason or another, I had this odd feeling that
it would be there that day, even saying to Steve, “How weird would
it be if that [parcel] just showed up today?”.
~
I threw the parcel at Steve, feeling an
ear to ear grin spread across my face. He read who it arrived from
and instantly his face replicated mine.
Unfortunately, the milligram scale I'd
ordered didn't arrive the day I'd expected it too; we were both
heavily impatient, that was our first mistake. I wasn't familiar with
the powder's density, but regardless, I still eyed out two similar
doses to what I believed to be 16mg and 32mg ( a few years previously
when I'd been experimenting with 2C-B I needed at least 30mg [taken
orally] to be able to achieve close-to peak effects). I knew that
2C-P was slightly more potent than 2C-B with an enormous dose curve,
I did my homework.
Our biggest mistake was changing the,
“normal”, method of consumption to intranasal (snorting) in able
to avoid the enormous dose-responsive curve (keep in mind these doses
were NOT SAFELY WEIGHED). I took my line first [which was slightly
bigger than my friend's dose] and was thrust into a land of pain, so
bad I didn't feel any effects, just immense, intolerable pain. I
remember looking up through teary-eyes at a generally concerned
looking Steve and saying,
“Oh..Oh..my..god it
burns...sooooo..baad!”
He looked at his dose and goes, “I'm
not so sure about this”, it was at this point I was getting slammed
with highly uncomfortable effects. My chest felt extremely light and
it was in no way an enjoyable sensation. My shoulders felt like they
were being electrocuted with amount of intolerable anxiety that began
pumping in odd patterns. I felt so overly and completely
unnaturally-stimulated, forcibly my eyes bugged open as far as
humanly possible. My visual field quickly became illuminated with
dancing geometry of such complex patterning (this at first was quite
beautiful). Quickly, worried of my inexperienced friend I calmed my
voice (which was panicked, due to natural reaction to your heart
beating that quickly, I was also breathing very deeply to bring on
the calm) and said,
“Dude, don't do it this it's way to
intense, you don't want this”, trying to establish as much
seriousness in my tone as I possessed at that moment.
“I really want to trip”, he
insisted looking a bit insulted.
I debated in my head for a moment,
though it was getting increasingly difficult to hold a conversation
and control the rising anxiety, while the entire time my nose was
still burning at twice the intensity of when we began.
“Just take half”.
So, he did.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Steve was eyes were instantly panicked.
There were 1,000 thoughts racing
through my head on how to best contain to rising situation and trying
my best to ignore the, “I don't like this, I want it to go away”,
feeling creeping. I knew I had a good 12-18 hrs ahead, and it'd only
been about 10mn.
“I don't like this, I can't stand it,
my nose hurts so bad, everything is fucking moving. When does it
end?”, Steve said exasperated, his tone touching panic into my
heart. I felt his pain interlaced with my own.
Me: “It's alright, let's listen to
the dead”
Steve: “No, no music, I feel so sick,
I just want it to go”
Me: “It's not going anywere for at
least 8 Hours, we have to deal with this”
Steve: “I don't know if I..”
Me: “We can! We are strong we will
make it, relax”
Steve: “I just wanna smoke some weed”
We then made our way to the bong, of
which I packed a full-bowl, in a decently big hitter, of some
super-dank one-hitter quitter for him to take straight to the face.
He took it all one hit, no problem. In
fact, he didn't even cough. He blew the smoke out, set the bong down
and looked at me, and in the most horrified tone I'd heard out of him
in the entire span of our friendship said,
“I couldn't even feel the smoke in my
lungs, I don't feel high at all. We can't get high, we can't get
stoned, what do we do?”.
I just looked at him with sadness in my
eyes, my panic was rising so immensely it was difficult for me to
hold, and I wasn't even scared for my life, there was just simply too
much energy/electricity stimulating my psyche, or at least that's
what I think. I remember he exasperatingly walked away and sat down
on the couch in the living room with his hands over his eyes,
“There's too much light, even when I
close my eyes, it won't go away I don't like this”, he whined.
I sat down and just talked to him a lot
about what he's feeling right now, and reassured him that it will go
away and to be as patient as possible. He sat in the same
hands-to-his-eyes (I was checking to make sure he wouldn't dig his
eyes out) position and listened to me (I'd noticed, a controlled-calm
voice seemed to soothe him). I continued to assure him this is not a
journey that he had to be on alone, he's got his best friend right at
his side, that his brother had his back. Finally, I brought up a
topic looming in the back of my head based on my own feelings at that
moment and said,
“And straight serious right now dude,
I love you, your my brother til the end and I don't know what I'd do
without you. No matter what, I mean no matter how horrible it gets,
because it will get worse, I'm just being honest with you, know what
I mean?”, I waited for him to nod in order to be sure I still had
his attention before continuing,
“I am not trying to panic you, I've
been here before in this world of uncertainty and fear and I only
wish to make this as easy as possible for you (I did a lot of
buttering up, in an effort not to say the wrong string of words and
set panic, he seemed very fragile). There might be points where you
feel it won't end, but it will I swear to god it will, you might feel
like I'm talking a lot of shit and have no idea what I'm talking
about, but I do, Steve, I swear to god, I do; I wouldn't sit here and
spew bullshit, this right now is a situation in need of extreme
attention and careful operating. And seriously, listen to me as deep
as you can right now and replay my voice if you find yourself on the
wrong path of thought, it will end, we will make it, and even in your
deepest hell, SUICIDE IS NEVER THE ANSWER.”.
As I finished, his face twisted into a
grimace and he dropped his hands. The burning in my nose had just
began to subside, but what felt like the worst sensation in the
world, was rapidly multiplying.
He looked up to the sky, tears in his
eyes, my heart started beating even faster,
“Steve, look at me. Look at me,
seriously, you are my brother! I would never let anything hurt you,
including yourself..”
“I hate it so much”, he quickly
exasperated in a sickeningly sad tear-filled tone.
“Steve it will go away I swear to
god!”, he shook his head and put his face back in shaky palms.
“Steve, listen to me! Look at me!”,
he dropped his hands and dragged his gaze over to my concerned eyes.
“Steve, I will be right here at your
side, it will go away! It is not worth losing an entire life over a
scary day. We need to focus on how to survive any potentially life
threatening physical symptoms we feel, we need to distract ourselves
and do something. Steve, I need you as much as you need me right now,
don't leave me alone here man, please, I got your back dude”.
He laid back once more and sort of
groaned sort of whined out, “I won't I promise just let me sit here
and relax alone for a few, alright, please? I'll help you too dude, I
promise, I wont do anything stupid, I just need sometime, I'll be
right here”. There was a general understanding between him and I, I
trusted he'd be safe,
“I'll be back to check in a little
bit”
“Okay”
I retreated to my room, relieved to be
away from the tension his obvious panic was bringing. Closing the
door seemed to relax me and my heartbeat finally returned to a more
natural, and comfortable speed. The silence was so very, well, silent
and had an eerie hang to it. I decided to put on, Touch of Grey by
The Dead. At first, the drums (which on a normal LSD trip intoxicate
me) shot me into extreme anxiety and I nearly exited the music
program. But due to difficulty operating the computer while in such
a, “fucked up state”, I decided to sit-back and give'em a chance
to work their magic. I closed my eyes in an attempt to meditate and
listened very deeply.
Upon closing my eyes I was instantly
immersed in dynamic, complex, rapidly changing/merging/flashing 2-D
geometric patterns. I was literally struggling to analyze the visuals
and had to stop due to rising motion sickness. I opened my eyes and
my previous visual field multiplied to an extent where I could hardly
focus on anything, I felt a rising sickness and knew instantly it had
to be done. I ran out of my room straight for the kitchen sink and
brutally puked my brains out. It was a burning sensation so terrible
in my stomach, even after I stopped puking I felt it necessary to
push more out. But even after there was nothing left in my stomach,
there still remained the terrible nauseousness. I remember looking at
the clock and seeing it'd only been 20 minutes, then looking down
into the sink at what came up (I hadn't eaten anything that day and
was sort of praying to see some of the substance undissolved in my
stomach acids). There was a very strange pile of blue mucous, of
which I guessed was the undissolved 2C-P. This relieved me, as I
believed my body had removed the poison as it's defense’s are
meant.
Back in my room, sitting in my chair
listening to, “I willllll geet by, I will survice”, just brought
such illumination and happyness into my soul, I stated to laugh
heavily. Everything seemed to be getting a slightly more tolerable
state (though far, far from comfortable).
I smoked a cigarette and began to
meditate again. My instant feeling on channeling my chi was a heavy,
heavy current streaming straight up (my comfortable level is a slow
down flow), it took a few minutes just to stop the up stream and
proved nearly impossible to push down. It Took a lot of convincing of
myself that I could do anything and, 'no drug is going to stop me',
before I began to feel a relaxing steady downward current.
I felt in control once more; it was in
this break of the storm, I took advantage and laid out what I'm
calling a, “foundation for positive thought”. Basically, I'd
think inspirational thoughts that I could recall later in a time of
peril. Also, in recalling the thoughts it also tells me I set these
thoughts up because I knew I was on a drug and could freak out,
forcing a sense of reality out of the drugs grasp.
I began falling in love with the dead
all over again, I had the urge to dance, run, jump, but nausea
set-those urges aside. Steve walked into the room with a sly smile
and simply said,
“Dude I am the most fucked up I've
ever been in my entire life! The ceiling is..”
“Pulsating veins? Deep Dark
Red/Violet?”, I interrupted, for some reason, so sure he had the
same visuals as I. His jaw dropped in astonishment,
“You see that shit too?!?!”, we
both laughed for what felt like 10 minutes and I put on more of The
Dead.
I know in the back of both of our heads
we had the same thought, 'Oh god..It's intensity is reproaching'.
Over the span of 5-15minutes, music
became far too much to focus on, visuals seemed to repress a bit,
however in its place, the electric anxiety in my arms spiked from
extremely irritating to debilitating. I was extremely worried about
Steve, he'd grown quiet as well, and the psychological trauma felt
enough to drive a normal man insane.
Once more, I closed my eyes, feeling my
heart pounding out of my chest faster than the speed of sound, I felt
pain deep in the center of my heart which then shot an nerve shock
through my entire system, leaving me lightheaded and dazed with a
slight ringing in my ears. My heart began to feel as though it was
beating spontaneously, off rhythm. I began to feel pangs of pain deep
in the center of my heart, sending flurries of nerves.
I felt my vision began to darken and
was 100% concerned for my life. I knew that any break in
concentration would cause the situation to spiral far out of my
control. So, I swallowed my fears and told myself, 'what happens,
happens, I have to try my best to get Steve out of this'. I stood up
and said, “I'm going to the bathroom, I'll grab you a water”. The
panging in my heart made me hyper alert to all of the common mistakes
of the horror stories I'd heard.
We began drinking lots of water, and
the intensity just kept rising, there was no break. Steve was
breaking I could see it in his eyes, it scared me deep. Instantly I
felt I knew what to do,
“Steve, I think we may potentially be
overheating and are unable to recognize it because we're so fucked
up. We need to go take cold showers, it'll be hard, but it needs to
be done”.
I stepped into the shower and gently
adjusted to ice-cold water, then a little colder, and hopped in. Cold
instantly crept up my spine, into every part of my body, it was then
I noticed that my back, chest, arms, and part of my legs were
completely numb. I tensed my muscles, which proved to be more of a
task then I'd anticipated. In a hypothetical attempt to keep blood
pumping to all extremities. I could feel the hot pouring off my body
in layers and slowly, the seemingly impossible buzz began to die back
to a, 'just barely tolerable' level, but it gave me more hope.
I remember hopping out of that
ice-cold shower into a room full of steam.
Afterwords, the stairs seemed far too
daunting (the shower was upstairs), so we decided to camp it out
upstairs. Steve felt much better, but he wanted to lay down in the
dark. We laid in silence for twenty minutes before the buzz started
to increase once more, hopping between tolerable and a feeling of,
'Please KILL ME NOW!'.
Steve finally snapped, and began
pleading for me to take him to the hospital, saying he tried so hard
and he was sorry but he doesn't want to die.
“You won't die I prom...”
“I'm sorry, I can't do this,
I..I..Can't”
“Say no more, I'll alert my mother,
she'll take us in; an ambulance will only terrify you.”,
After telling my mom of our stupidity
and asking for her advice she came to talk to Steve with me. She and
I both know that hospital staff does not appropriately respond to
those in panic from psychotropic substance and do far more damage
than good. She reassured him she would check on us constantly and
only call when the physical symptoms seemed fit. Checked our
temperatures, which were only slightly elevated, my mothers caring
words pushed me to see past my pain and to make Steve's easier, which
also distracted me from the mind consuming sensations. We talked
about life and how easily people forget how great it truly is. He
must have said 1000 times,
“Just weed, I will never trip
again.”...It killed me that I'd ruined such a beautiful thing for
someone, I was so angry with myself I just fell into thought, I don't
know where the time went.
Finally, the trip started dying down in
intensity in a slow, yet constant, dip. The trip from that point
became highly enjoyable and reminded me of goodtimes candyflipping,
we laughed loads, and listened to The Dead, Simon and Garfunkel,
Floyd, and a bunch of other feel good music. We went outside and we
enjoyed the dimming into night, Steve finally felt as though he was
able to sleep and did so. I was awake until about five that morning,
the visuals were so bright it was hard to keep my eyes closed. I
mean, it literally hurt from the intensity of the brightness at
points. My pitch black room was dancing with colors and stars, I
don't remember falling asleep.
The next day we had a wake and bake
session, and wouldn't ya know, the milligram scale came in the mail.
Curiosity struck and I began weighing out similar, if not the same,
dose as what we'd done yesterday, I even made it a tad smaller than
what I would swear was the exact dose we took (to eliminate any
potential exaggeration). The numbers astounded me, my line (which
contained slightly more) was approximately 140-150mg, Steve's was
approximately 100-116mg. A strong dose for 2C-P was marked at 16+mg.
Steve and I agreed on calling 2C-P, 'El Diablo'.
I consider this experience to be one of
the most important I've ever had in life. It showed me that I could
stay calm in an incredibly tense and traumatic situation and give
assistance to those in need. It showed me my passion to thrive and
survive, it showed me how much I cared for my friends, that I'd put
their safety over mine in a situation few other may rise to. Steve
also said he appreciated the experience, he felt as though it was
necessary for him and he no longer feels the need to journey the
psychotropic unknown, just smoke ganja. I thought I'd feel the same,
I did at times the day before, but I survived and I learned so very
much. I still to this day am waiting for that moment when I no longer
feel as though I need explore those worlds, that moment has yet to
arrive. The knowledge and understanding of a selfless person is very
difficult to achieve in a pride-ran nation, but the perspective is so
very important to have in your palette, to understand, to see beyond
your own beliefs and delve in to any possibility. The thoughts
perceived on a psychoactive substance is not PRODUCED or CAUSED by
that substance, but rather are the thoughts of the subject placed in
a multitude of senses they've never experienced before, opening the
gate, even if only for a peek.
