Potential.

I know drugs are bad.

But everything has potential to be something that they are not expected to be.

The other night I took Shrooms. I have taken them before but this time was different, they were diffused in peppermint tea.

My trip was intense, and personal. My eyes were opened to the creations of which I am capable.

My trip started with a strange happening, Bex came up in a rush and had to go and lie down for a minute, but I was laughing, because my hand didn't feel like it was mine, so I wrote on it, 'not my hand'. I then began to worry that if i was tripping too deep I wouldn't know what that meant, so on my right, alternate hand I wrote 'but good friends'. Seconds later I began to cavort with laughter and smile and shouted to Bex, I had realized, that absolutely seamlessly, I had written on my right hand, using my left, as if I was ambidextrous, my writing was perfect, and i screamed and yelped with amazement. My brain had been so busy with everything else that it had treat my left hand like my right hand, and I was awesstruck.

I then went to the bedroom and sat on the floor, Bex was lying in bed and my head was strangely suddenly fully of the thought that bex was in bed, dying, and I felt like a child visiting her, sitting on the floor. She couldn't tell real from false, and she was fading and so was I, we were going deeper, somewhere far away from reality. I was saying things to her that she couldn't understand, questioning if anything was real, messing with her head, we were laughing, but then it went silent, I felt sad somehow, like something bad had happened. A sick feeling, we looked at eachother.

On reflection that was the layer of the trip ending, the concept of my trip. Bex had died in that layer. But it's not real, remember.

I climbed into bed, engrossed in the air and the walls and my own skin, I stared around me, as the walls melted into beautiful colours. My ugly 60's raised wallpaper became beautiful men swinging on vines and twisting their long hair up and down like the handle of a carousel horse, candy striped and beautiful. I lay on the bed next to Bex and my room transformed into a jungle, full of ants and insects in multiple colours running along the ceiling carrying what appeared to be a naked women with long hair, I watched her transfer along the ceiling to the walls. I checked the time, it said 21.09. It had felt like hours, but it had been 18 minutes since I came up. Or so I thought.

I lay next to Bex and i looked at her, and her skin slowly faded to ripples of rainbow colours and the ceiling was full of strange white snowflake patterns. My red top made me feel christmassy.

Soon after the room calmed to a warm orange with blue corners, it felt like a light, open japanese room. It was fresh, but I missed my jungle. But that layer of my trip had ended. Bex went to the toilet, and she left me lying in bed, she took a long time. I noticed very harrowingly that she had left the door open. I had realized that in my mind the bed had slowly moved to the centre of the room. I felt vulnerable, my mind felt as if the room was huge and I was small, as if looking at me from someone elses point of view would be like looking down on a tiny person, like a fisheye but opposite. I pushed the duvet aside, and clambered clumsily out of bed, everything was clear in that 5 seconds, I had to shut the door.

I had to shut the door because this room was my mind, my brain, my thoughts, emotions, and feelings, and the door to my mind was open. I had to close it, quickly and safely and keep anyone and everything out. I climbed back into bed and the colours poured back in, and that layer was gone too.

Bex returned shortly after and we changed rooms to intensify our trip. we wrote on the whiteboard in my living room, covered it in a matter of seconds. It had a vague drawing of me and Bex on, and It read :-

"We are tripping, sorry for any inconvenience caused, I have a magic hand (not my hand) and he started all this, so, it's down to him really?"

The whole trip was a concept. It was a concept for death. I realized this after on reflection, the whole night had undertones of sadness, a thick heavy sadness that made everything not quite perfect, but it was safe, because I had safeguarded my trip with the 'but good friends' that my right hand had written on it. I had also cleaned the house, because when you're tripping normal things look dirty and dirty things look unbearable. So I cleaned and tidied.

My trip could only be described as a sad shitty Christmas morning in a poor persons home. The dingy yellow light of my living room gave it that aspect. It was a lesson learnt, a beautiful, mind broadening experience that I thought I would share with you.

If you are offered Shrooms? Take them. They come from the ground, they are natural and they are literally magic, mushrooms.

Goodnight.