Ringing @ MindSay

This evening Saturday I experienced something odd.

I had a very strange and negative experience with drugs. Drugs have been a part of me and a part of my life and activities...artistic, recreational, things of the sort...for...ages. For as long as I clearly remember being as coherent of the world as I am now. I have, through and with drugs, expeirenced planes of being not within the reach of my sober mind...have experienced people in ways unbeleiveable to me...have intensified experiences tenfold...yes, drugs are a very interesting and deeply woven aspect of my life.

And this is not to say I havent had really awful experiences with drugs. I have...I certianly have...but not really like this. No, never really like this. I had not done anything really intense, save a bowl or two with friends in the woods....and perhaps it was something about the steady use of anphetimines...or the lack of sleep...or the forgetting to eat that day...but...I began to loose total control. I'm accustomed to being at times semi-out of control, but I've usually still some grasp on my functionings...but not this time. I could not control the way I moved, nor the way words escaped my mouth and slid down my front, nor the way I screamed and cried and was so increadibly afraid. I was sure. I was sure that the time had come for me to die. I was sliding down a bathroom wall beside a room filled with people and there was tile that was cold beneath me, and that was all I could know, save that total and inevitable feeling of my impending end.

And I was afraid.  I was so afraid. The fear of death is so confusing to me, and I feel so completely childish and irrational when I think of it, and when it sends tremors and shivers down my spine and stomough, why do we fear what is inevitably coming to us all? Why do we expend energy on worrying about how afraid we are of something that will come reguardless of our petty fears? Is it instinct, and if so, is instinct a fighteable force? Are we so well ingrained with this primal fear and need to perpetuate and to procreate that we must burden ourselves with this completely useless fear?

I was brought to an upstairs bed and drowned myself in blankets, forcing the one who was with me to swear she would not let me close my eyes or slip, to swear that she would not let me die, crying, screaming, pulling my clothes off and pleading with her to save me, not to let me go. Telling her how fucking afraid I was.

And then, all of a sudden, it began to ebb down slowly. The boy came by me and I was still afraid, but in a more diluted way. My heart was still racing, but in a more mechanical fashion. He was there, and I was next to him, and I could feel him by me and there was solidity in that past my fear. Everything was conqured by the warmth and ultimite connection of skin upon skin, there is nothing more powerful on this earth then to connect.

It makes you wonder...it really fucking makes you wonder....this was not like any clumped carpeted seizure with a furrowed forhead and forced fingers manipulating muscles down the workings of my mouth. This was not any loss of time and space and reason through forests with blood flowing in streams and with branches morphing and swaying into limp and languid corpses, no, this was no late night hospital visit with my father and no need for charcoal, having vomited out all the toxins volunterilly, all the while watching him laugh nervously and not extend information to the doctor. This was diffrent.

Just....diffrent. I have no idea about much on this earth, but all I can know is that I am so in love with all of you.