Last night, my adventures in psychospace ended with fists through a glass cabinet, blood on the kitchen floor, and hysterical laughter. All of them mine.

I can credit this screeching halt to 2CI, a tidy little hallucinogen on the acidic side (side effects: depression, fatigue, extreme mood swings). I took my very first trip Saturday night, saw stellar panspermia, the evolution of night and day, matter and antimatter... too much coolness to describe. Unfortunately, I also bit through my tongue, and stayed up nearly twelve hours, with the result that I lost all sense of happiness for the next two days, culminating in said violent end to drug experimentation.

You'd think the sight of a burnt-out lunatic with his arms wrapped in bandages would serve as a deterrent for future drug use. It doesn't. That's him, not me. It won't happen to me. I want the experience. The experience is worth any price. I can't wait to take it again.

And I'm supposed to share my story and make a loud enough noise so that everyone will listen, and not repeat my mistakes.

In case you haven't noticed, no one is reading this.

You're all out getting experience.