Citation: Icarus. "Nothing to Live For: An Experience with LSD, MDMA, Alcohol & Cannabis (exp48063)". Erowid.org. Jun 8, 2007. erowid.org/exp/48063
||(pill / tablet)
I'm not sure if I'm writing this to clear my own head, but I hope someone will find it useful. I'm sorry if it's not good news to some people but it's the truth and I have to tell it.
I was going to a mate's club with 4 friends. It was the biggest event the club had hosted and everyone was up for a great night, whatever that might involve. We started drinking at about 6pm and didn't enter the club till it opened at midnight, we were all drunk but not overly so. I took on the role of pill sourcer (as usual) and within a short while managed to get about 3 ecstasy tablets for each of us. I took my 3 between about 1am and 5am when the club closed. I've taken a lot more than this before and was by no means totally fucked, I helped my mate and the djs pack there stuff up before heading out of the club. We all then headed off to someone's flat for the aftershow party that had been planned.
Once there I had one grass spliff just to bring me back to ground a little and a line of speed to stop me falling off to sleep on the couch (I had been working all day!). More drink was involved and the morning was partied away by all, including all the club's djs that had showed up. At some point, I'm not sure of the exact time but it must have been about 10am, someone gave me and about 6 others some LSD. It was just 2 drops on the back of my hand that I licked off. At this point I must say that I've never touched acid in my life. I've taken mushrooms plenty times before, but I've never been a fan of halucinogenics and of feeling at all out of control, I've taken practically every non-halucinogenic pill, powder or weed at some point and all without a second thought, but not acid.
Anyway, I don't remember any slow start or build up, I just carried on with the party, chatting up a girl I met in the club, talking shit to my mates. The first thing was when someone asked me to go through to the living room to calm down my ex-girlfriend because she was 'freaking out'. She'd taken the same as me at the same time. When I got to her she was terrified, she kept holding me really tight and crying. She said everything was finished and would never start again, then she started screaming, it was a blood-curdling, horror-movie, terror scream, I think even the djs stopped playing!
I eventually calmed her down a bit and handed her over to one of the girls who owned the flat and told her to put her to bed and stay with her. When I went back to the living room I saw the faces of all the rest of the guys who had taken the LSD with me, they all looked either afraid or totally confused but always very focused. It was then I started feeling scared. The hollow feeling started, like I was loosing all self-esteem and self-worth. All optimism in me drained and I got a feeling of dread, not a worry of something impending but more like a worry of nothing impending.
I looked at the rest in the room and they looked back at me, without a word there was a mutual understanding that we were all feeling the same. I tried to smile at someone as if to laugh everything off, he laughed for a second then started crying, he put his head on his hands. I looked at my best friend and he looked totally confused, we all looked at each other for answers. I don't remember time passing as such, but it must have been at least 1pm. By now I was feeling oddly lucid about what I was apparently beginning to percieve. It felt that in that short period of time the whole of mankind had, in unison, realised that there was nothing to live for. Everyone, myself included, saw that nothing was ever going to be achieved ever again, no love, no happiness, no discoveries, no new thoughts, nothing, this feeling right now was all there ever would be and it was called hell.
Nothing else changed, I could see the sky outside the window, the faces of everyone in the room, the decor of the flat, nothing was different appart from the knowledge, shared by all, that life was over, man had failed whatever purpose or challenge given to him and now all that was left was eternal emptiness, right here in this place, right now and for ever. I/we were certain that this could not change. I couldn't feel anything appart from the empty dread and it terrified me, I couldn't feel my body. I grabbed a glass and crushed it with my hand cutting my fingers in the process, I thought that if I managed to feel pain it would prove that at least there was something else left in the universe, I felt nothing and the dread remained.
I remember biting into the flesh of my index finger, I could taste the blood but not the pain. The panic increased, I realised that this was it, it would never finish. One of the others was picking up anything and studying it frantically, reading magazine pages, picking at the stitching on a jacket, feeling at the wood of the coffee table, he told me later he was trying to get a reaction out of himself to take his mind of the fear. What happened next I'm still trying to come to terms with. The feeling of dread and terror was crushing me, it was everywhere and I was 100% certain it was eternal, mankind had awoken in hell and there was no way out.
I didn't feel anything when my fist broke through the window, I still don't know how the glass didn't cut my hand or my face for that matter. I almost had my whole body out when someone grabbed my belt. I'm quite a strong guy, I played rugby for years, they didn't stand a chance of holding me when I was kicking that hard, I had to end this. The last thing I remember was taking a deep breath of clean air and looking at the sky, then nothing. I was lucky. Lucky I missed the railings aroung the garden. Lucky I didn't land on my head. Lucky someone had called an ambulance when I crushed the glass in my hand, it was there almost before I landed. Lucky an orthopaedic surgeon was walking past the flat and came to help. Lucky I didn't die.
Nobody's quite sure how I landed, they think it might have been on my arse, maybe my shoulders. They know I folded in half on impact, that's what did it. I fell about 35 feet, broke my back in 5 places, crushed two vertibrae to nothing and snapped my spinal cord in half. I can't feel or move anything below my rib cage, the official line is T8 complete paraplaegia. It took them 2 weeks to drain all the blood from chest cavity, then they operated to straighten me with two lengths of titanium. I've been in hospital for 3 months now, I'm hoping to be out for christmas but it depends how well the healing goes, the paralysis is totally permanent and I'll never walk again. I'm lucky I can use my arms and that I'll be totally independant eventually.
I always said I would never touch acid, I only did because I was already hammered and it seemed like a good idea. I have nothing against taking drugs, my attitude towards it hasn't changed. I used to get called the nurse when we were out because I was always looking after everyone when we were fucked, I'd give pills to people who'd never tried them and then spend all night making sure they got through it enjoying it, even though I'd be hammered too. I'm not here to tell anyone to stop taking anything, I'm not here to preach, I fucking hate those types, just listen to my story. I was someone who could take all manner of shit and still knock back a drug I didn't want, I knew all the anti-drug stories; 'Johnny took acid then though he could fly, he through himself out the window, now he's dead.' They never wash with me because I knew that, ok, maybe I was a little out of control sometimes, but I wasn't going to go mental. I knew my drugs and knew where my limits were. No-one likes getting so mashed they can't remember anything the next day, we take it because it's a great feeling and we want to remember it.
But just one time it reacted badly with my head. One time it was either stronger than I expected or I was already to hammered to take it, I've been in worse states and taken more drugs before. One time it all got too much and now I'm paying the price. Please be fucking careful, all the other trips can be great, but just one can convince you of things you thought weren't possible. I've always been a optimistic guy, I could not concieve of taking my own life, it'd be like breaking my prime directive, but I did try it.
I'd love nothing more than to get out of this hospital, have a nice glass of wine, a big fat j, and maybe go to my mates and take some pills and listen to some tunes, but I can't. Not because I'm afraid. Because I can't bear to put my family and friends through the fear and pain again. I don't believe anything bad would ever happen to me again with drugs, but I can't risk tearing my loved ones' hearts out again, I'm afraid now I can only take a drink. I know you'll all have opinions on me and my experience and that's what I expect. Just please take this as a word of warning, not from a convert but from a pro-drug person, accidents can happen, lessen the risk and take care. Now, 'Nurse! Where's my damn morphine!'
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