Citation: Daytripper. "The Worst Thing Ever: experience with Inhalants - Gasoline (ID 46095)". Erowid.org. Jul 5, 2006. erowid.org/exp/46095
[Erowid Warning: Our understanding of the literature is that there is no such thing as safe use of volatile solvents, aerosols and other street inhalants : their psychoactive effects are inseparable from nerve and organ damage. We have chosen to include these reports to help document the real world use of inhalants, but their inclusion is not intended to imply that they are anything but dangerous.]
Let me start off by saying that I've done a lot of drugs in my short life. Pretty much everything I can think of except for heroin and all those 2-C research chemicals, and the only reason I haven't done those is because no one around here knows where to get them. I've had some pretty scary experiences and gone through some pretty dark phases. Nothing, however, compares to the time a couple of years ago when I was huffing gasoline on a regular basis.
Two years ago, I hadn't really messed with any mind-altering substances, other than alcohol, and Vicodin and Percocet I had gotten from my parents' medicine cabinet. I loved the euphoria and relaxation I experienced from those, but I had always been enamored by the hallucinogens--acid and shrooms, specifically. Unfortunately, I didn't have very many (read, any) connections, and was forced to look to other routes. I hadn't heard of DXM or morning glories at the time (although I eventually would, and grow very fond of them), so those weren't options. I did, however, remember hearing someone once refer to gasoline as a hallucinogen, so I decided to give that a shot.
I knew there was a half-full can of gas in the garage that my dad used for the lawnmower. I simply waited until I was home alone one day and sat in the garage with the can. I put my mouth over the opening and breathed in a few times. The first thing I experienced was a feeling of dizziness and a slight buzz comparable to alcohol. I had a kind of warm sensation all over my body. I kept on huffing for I don't know how long. It's really hard to tell when Iím doing it because Iím so far gone. Seriously gone. As I said, in the last couple of years, I've experimented with virtually everything there is to experiment with--acid, shrooms, nitrous, salvia, DXM, PCP--and I have never felt as gone as I did with the gasoline.
I was in a completely different world, and it was reality, as far as I was concerned. I didn't get the slightest notion that it was the gasoline that had caused it. I had this vision that the world was ending, but it really didn't worry me. I kept hearing this weird chanting in my ear that made absolutely zero sense. It went something like, 'Bo-Tiki, Bo-Tiki, Bo-Tiki...Lance Plaything!' And every time it would say that last part, a vision of Duffman from the Simpsons would pop in my head and I would think he was there to save the world. Utterly bizzare.
Now, since I didn't have any connections or money at the time, and the can of gas was just sitting their in the garage, I started doing it frequently. Like two or three times a day, everyday, for about a month. It started to get bad and turn into an addiction. I would do it even when my parents were home. One night, I was out huffing for what seemed like hours, and when I came back inside, my mom was standing in the hallway, asking me why it smelled so much like gas in the house. I was still messed up as hell, but, lucky for me, she didn't really press the issue and went back to sleep. I didn't really have any super traumatic event that convinced me to give it up. I could just feel myself getting slower and slower by the day, and I decided I needed to stop. Stopping wasn't particularly hard.
What made it the worst thing ever, though, was the after effects. For about a year, I was certain that I had suffered permanent brain damage. I couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes at a time before losing focus. I wasn't able to hold a conversation with anyone because I wouldn't be able to think of the right word, and then I would forget what I was talking about while trying to think of it. I would slur a lot of words. I had been an excellent speller, but, suddenly, I wasn't sure how to spell the simplest words (tommorow or tomorrow?). I would do stupid things like put the coffee pot in the microwave instead of back on the tray, to the point where people would start asking if I was OK.
I fell into a depression because I was certain that I had huffed myself retarded. I considered killing myself because I thought my life was doomed. By some miracle, though, over the course of a few months, my mental abilities started to return to me. I'd say I now have about 90-95% of my pre-huffing cognitive abilities, whereas before, I was at about 55-60%. I still have some trouble focusing and spelling, but it's not nearly as bad. I don't know if I'll ever get that last 5-10% back, though.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
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