So the tape ends before I’m done. 20 minutes. I believed it would loop. Try to change a cassette, cd, or ANYTHING technical on K and it will seem like brain surgery. You just don’t understand anything in reality. Everything has a new life a new meaning. In short I was pitched into silence and the glasses kept flashing. It became annoying than nauseous. K already gives you a feeling of being on a boat – that’s why some people throw up, but this was too much. I took them off and thought I was done. I was agitated and was so far from being relaxed. I stood up, each step across my bedroom was a decade. Then I broke down, started crying. Questioned myself what the fuck I was doing injecting animal tranquilizers in my ass. I wanted to call somebody, anybody to cry for help. Yet I probably couldn’t say a word. The timemachine was still in effect. I could only hope it would return me to the same time, the same place, the same body as I was in before.
It’s a turning point in most people must have in drug use. It’s a warning that its not going to get better. Your killing yourself.
I want to stop K, but K doesn’t want to stop me. Its vial beckons me when I sleep. I do have control, but I know I will do it again. Its like being told there is a gateway to heaven in your top drawer and telling yourself you won’t open it. Pandora’s box. I was always one to seek pleasure. And I always will.
So once the K wore off, I reconsidered a few things. One that – even though this trip was one of the worst experiences I ever had, it was also the only time I experimented with doing it differently. Sometimes experiments backfire or burn down your meth lab. But sometimes you come up with something better. I must accept this and move on.
Second I have only enough for one more dose. The magickal 13. It will end this affair. I will leave her an empty vessel, like a vampire I have returned to her , draining her life-force. I will leave her like the rest of the vials. Empty. And in the end I will always seek more.