I’ve been smoking different brands of Klimax, spice, k2, orange jungle, and a bunch others for at least five years now on and off but every day for at least two. At first, it was like the weed. Recently it had been more like heroin.
You hit it. Then you go to sleep. Sometimes it would feel like an anti associate drug but nothing ever too much like a “bad trip.” Until recently. About a week ago I got a bag of loose, and lately, I had been getting week shit, so I took a big ass hit and held it in.
I felt it immediately and was like hell yeah finally then it happened. All of a sudden I stiffen up and have little control over my body movements, so I lay down on my cot next to my dog. The next thing I know I hear these people talking about me like 20 or 30 people all hiding in the woods around me.
I can’t tell exactly what they’re saying, but they don’t want me in the forest by their house. I paid there scared to move, and I could see these people in hoods out of my peripheral vision.
I’m afraid to move I eventually end up curled in a ball crying holding on to my poor dog who is looking at me like it’s scared to death of me, and I can’t blame him. I stay curled up in a ball next to my dog for over an hour thinking people were going to jump out of the woods and do what?
I wasn’t exactly sure, but I could tell they were angry. I even took my dog’s collar off because it was reflective and I was afraid it would give us up. Eventually, it wears off, and I slowly start to realize that it was all a hallucination.
OK, so it takes me a few hours to completely recover from this. During that time a fellow spice smoker calls me and asks me if I can get him anything. I tell him the whole story, and of course, he wants to try it now. So I give him some say not to hit it in the car.
When I ask him about his experience, he says close to the same thing. Everyone was looking at him and talking about him. The only difference is he said he was unsure of their intentions. I was pretty sure the intentions of my people were bad.
OK, so the next night my mom lets me sleep in her van and I decide to take just a small hit of the same shit because I probably just did too much. I should have thrown it away.
Immediately, I see this line of cars pull on the street, and they all stop in front of the house. I can’t feel my body, so I lay down, and can hear people from my family getting out of cars and talking about me, but I can understand them there saying things like wow he’s tripping hard.
Damn look at him he looks like he’s going to die. Damn Mike, you fucked up this time Mike, didn’t you? Keep in mind these are people from my family that I’m hearing from my brothers, dad, aunt and grandmother.
People that are nowhere near where I’m. So I finally come out of it, and I’m quite happy about this. I didn’t do too much I just got some bad shit. That’s what I thought. So I buy some different shit the next day from a trusted source. I mean I’ve gone through them before, and it had always been pleasant.
This night my dad lets me spend the night, so I’m indoors I’d taken a shower. I had eaten dinner I’m laying down to go to sleep, and remember oh yeah I got some real shit. So I go out and take a couple of hits hold him.
I go inside and lay down. The next thing I know, it’s real hard to get comfortable, and I’m burning up I start pouring sweat and freaking out. I unplug the space heater and turn the fan on, but I feel like I’m sitting on fire.
I can feel and picture in my mind every molecule in my body individually exploding into some magma, and the heat is unbearable. I can’t move I manage to get my socks off, and I hear this evil voice whispering to me over and over.
If you do that again, you are going to die. If you do that again, you are going to die. If you do that again, you are going to die. It almost sounds like me but demonic, and I’m trying to tell it, OK, OK I won’t, just stop burning me.
Eventually, the fire just feels like I’m sunburned. The voice stopped, and I was lying on the couch crying. I got up and drank so much water; it felt like I hadn’t had fluids in days. I woke up the next day and threw the shit away.
I haven’t smoked all day, and I’m feeling OK about it. So far withdrawal is just sweating and shaking and every once in a while I break down crying for no reason at all I have slight body aches.
I’m grinding my teeth and biting my cheeks. It kind of feels like alcohol withdrawal and meth withdrawal combined which I have had the pleasure of both experiences separately.
I’ve been smoking weed, so so far I still have an appetite and have been able to eat and keep food down. I don’t want to go through this, but I believe that I will die or way worse like getting stuck in some demonic fucking dimension with that mean ass-fucker is taunting me for eternity.
I’ve done brain damage I can tell. If it gets worse before it gets better, then I will commit myself to psych or ask a family member because suicide has already come to mind a few times during a breakdown and I don’t want to die.
Shit, I just begged for my life back. Please, sweet Jesus, forgive me for my sins I accept you as my Lord and personal savior may I know and do your will always. Amen.