97

97

July 24, 2017 - 159 words


I’m starting to think everyone is a single LSD trip away from losing their relevance on Earth, but the difficulty is in knowing when to walk away. It’s a game of roulette: one of these colorful tabs is going to shake you so far out of reality that coming back will feel like awakening from an unpleasant dream and then questioning whether you’re not awake yet as you squeeze into skin that you can’t recall inhabiting before. Like you’re suddenly living in a microtonal Ligeti piece. Someone has to land on double zero eventually. The only way to win is to stop playing. I grow suspicious when people refer to psychedelics as “plant medicine,” as if the further you stray from sobriety the more you can learn about consciousness. When the questions lead to more questions you can be sure the drug’s lies are taking hold. Probably the real wisdom in a psychedelic experience is deciding it isn’t necessary.