About six months have passed, and now that the trauma has started to fade, I finally feel able to write this down.
That day, I asked a girl out to go see the autumn leaves, and she turned me down.
The trees had not even fully turned red yet, but I had been planning to use that as an excuse to set up another date later.
I think I was pretty desperate after being rejected for the next day’s date too.
I cannot physically handle alcohol, so I turned to DMT instead.
I took Aurorix, packed the chamber of a Yocan Orbit full of DMT crystals, and smoked it.
At first, I thought it was going to be the same kind of trip I had always had before.
But that trip was intensely erotic.
When I touched myself and gave myself stimulation, the pleasure I felt was stronger than anything I had ever experienced before.
It was the first time I had ever masturbated while using DMT.
Then, wanting even more pleasure, I packed the Yocan Orbit full of DMT again, put earbuds in both ears, and played my favorite ASMR.
I lay face down on my bed, and when I stimulated myself between my body and the mattress, it felt incredibly real—though I am a virgin, so I do not really know what “real” should feel like.
I got completely absorbed in it and started thrusting.
I took in more DMT, kept moving, and just when I felt like I was on the verge of ejaculating, my vision started spinning.
The nausea was overwhelming.
Before I knew it, my genitals had shrunk, and in my head, it felt like alarms were going off.
I tried to throw up, but nothing came out.
It felt like I had crossed some kind of line.
My vision would not stop spinning, and I truly thought there was no going back.
My throat was unbelievably dry, so I gulped down tea.
I remembered stories about people who took LSD and never came back.
I could not breathe naturally anymore.
I lay on the bed in the recovery position, but unless I consciously forced myself to breathe, I simply would not breathe at all.
Gas started escaping from my body.
You may have seen people burp right before they die—that is exactly what it felt like.
Strangely, even when I stopped breathing, I did not feel any distress.
I thought this was the end, but at the same time, all I could think was: if death means there is nothing afterward, then maybe that is fine.
At that moment, I also had the feeling that I had glimpsed some ultimate truth about the world.
Here is the note I wrote down in a panic at the time.
I wrote it because I thought that if I managed to survive, it might turn out to be something profoundly important.
Original Japanese:
"まるでエレベーター。4つが順番にくるくる。なんだか、保育園、溝口先生？とあったよ。記憶は死ぬ前の引き出しにするためだけ。まぁ、４つだよ。0時超えた。やたらと喉乾くなぁ。なんだか、一線こえるとすぐ死ぬんだね。生き残るためにいろいろ思い出す。生まれた時とはいかんけどさ、保育園のキリン組まで思い出したよ。４つの中の一つにその動作がある。"
English:
“It was like an elevator. Four things were spinning around one after another. Somehow, there was nursery school, and Mr. Mizoguchi? Memory exists only to be filed away in a drawer before death. Anyway, it is four things. It is past midnight. My throat is so dry. Somehow, once you cross a certain line, you die almost immediately. To survive, you start remembering all sorts of things. I could not go all the way back to birth, but I even remembered the Giraffe class at nursery school. One of those four contains that movement.”
At the time, I was seeing a hallucination of four lights appearing one after another, spinning around, merging together, and disappearing into the center.
I tried to match my breathing to it, but breathing itself felt irritating.
Whenever I stopped breathing, the hallucinations became even stronger, and it felt like the ending of a movie.
From there, somehow, I kept breathing, drank something, and managed to stay alive until morning.
By then, all the hallucinations were gone, and I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.
That was my traumatic episode.
When I first used DMT, it frightened me, but after that it had mostly been something enjoyable.
This time, though, I think what nearly killed me was serotonin syndrome caused by an overdose.
The lesson I took from it is this: there is no wall between life and death.
You do not need courage, either.
You can die easily, and not even in great pain, all while feeling as if you have discovered some ultimate truth.
That might sound comforting to some people, but to me it is terrifying.
It is like the very next step could be the line that separates life from death.
I had become so dependent on DMT that I was even going to university after smoking it, but since that experience, I have not touched it once.
I threw away all the crystals.
Once I sell off the rest of my mimosa hostilis, that will be the end of my relationship with DMT.
Now I can drink alcohol, so I probably will never use DMT again.
I want you to know that DMT is not completely safe.
But if you are already hooked on it, I know warnings probably will not get through to you.
I know that because I was the same way.
So all I can do is pray that you do not die.
Special thanks to ChatGPT for translating.
That day, I asked a girl out to go see the autumn leaves, and she turned me down.
The trees had not even fully turned red yet, but I had been planning to use that as an excuse to set up another date later.
I think I was pretty desperate after being rejected for the next day’s date too.
I cannot physically handle alcohol, so I turned to DMT instead.
I took Aurorix, packed the chamber of a Yocan Orbit full of DMT crystals, and smoked it.
At first, I thought it was going to be the same kind of trip I had always had before.
But that trip was intensely erotic.
When I touched myself and gave myself stimulation, the pleasure I felt was stronger than anything I had ever experienced before.
It was the first time I had ever masturbated while using DMT.
Then, wanting even more pleasure, I packed the Yocan Orbit full of DMT again, put earbuds in both ears, and played my favorite ASMR.
I lay face down on my bed, and when I stimulated myself between my body and the mattress, it felt incredibly real—though I am a virgin, so I do not really know what “real” should feel like.
I got completely absorbed in it and started thrusting.
I took in more DMT, kept moving, and just when I felt like I was on the verge of ejaculating, my vision started spinning.
The nausea was overwhelming.
Before I knew it, my genitals had shrunk, and in my head, it felt like alarms were going off.
I tried to throw up, but nothing came out.
It felt like I had crossed some kind of line.
My vision would not stop spinning, and I truly thought there was no going back.
My throat was unbelievably dry, so I gulped down tea.
I remembered stories about people who took LSD and never came back.
I could not breathe naturally anymore.
I lay on the bed in the recovery position, but unless I consciously forced myself to breathe, I simply would not breathe at all.
Gas started escaping from my body.
You may have seen people burp right before they die—that is exactly what it felt like.
Strangely, even when I stopped breathing, I did not feel any distress.
I thought this was the end, but at the same time, all I could think was: if death means there is nothing afterward, then maybe that is fine.
At that moment, I also had the feeling that I had glimpsed some ultimate truth about the world.
Here is the note I wrote down in a panic at the time.
I wrote it because I thought that if I managed to survive, it might turn out to be something profoundly important.
Original Japanese:
"まるでエレベーター。4つが順番にくるくる。なんだか、保育園、溝口先生？とあったよ。記憶は死ぬ前の引き出しにするためだけ。まぁ、４つだよ。0時超えた。やたらと喉乾くなぁ。なんだか、一線こえるとすぐ死ぬんだね。生き残るためにいろいろ思い出す。生まれた時とはいかんけどさ、保育園のキリン組まで思い出したよ。４つの中の一つにその動作がある。"
English:
“It was like an elevator. Four things were spinning around one after another. Somehow, there was nursery school, and Mr. Mizoguchi? Memory exists only to be filed away in a drawer before death. Anyway, it is four things. It is past midnight. My throat is so dry. Somehow, once you cross a certain line, you die almost immediately. To survive, you start remembering all sorts of things. I could not go all the way back to birth, but I even remembered the Giraffe class at nursery school. One of those four contains that movement.”
At the time, I was seeing a hallucination of four lights appearing one after another, spinning around, merging together, and disappearing into the center.
I tried to match my breathing to it, but breathing itself felt irritating.
Whenever I stopped breathing, the hallucinations became even stronger, and it felt like the ending of a movie.
From there, somehow, I kept breathing, drank something, and managed to stay alive until morning.
By then, all the hallucinations were gone, and I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.
That was my traumatic episode.
When I first used DMT, it frightened me, but after that it had mostly been something enjoyable.
This time, though, I think what nearly killed me was serotonin syndrome caused by an overdose.
The lesson I took from it is this: there is no wall between life and death.
You do not need courage, either.
You can die easily, and not even in great pain, all while feeling as if you have discovered some ultimate truth.
That might sound comforting to some people, but to me it is terrifying.
It is like the very next step could be the line that separates life from death.
I had become so dependent on DMT that I was even going to university after smoking it, but since that experience, I have not touched it once.
I threw away all the crystals.
Once I sell off the rest of my mimosa hostilis, that will be the end of my relationship with DMT.
Now I can drink alcohol, so I probably will never use DMT again.
I want you to know that DMT is not completely safe.
But if you are already hooked on it, I know warnings probably will not get through to you.
I know that because I was the same way.
So all I can do is pray that you do not die.
Special thanks to ChatGPT for translating.
