When I was 15, I walked to a park with two friends in below zero-degree weather. They had a bag of the wicked clown which was much stronger than my drug dealers home made for profit spice.
I took one hit. I inhaled it the same way I one hit wonder pot which means I held it in as much as could after taking the biggest hit and every time, I needed to make a breath-I exhaled and inhaled a tenth of the way ten times until all smoke was gone.
Remember this was the first time smoking the chemical this high. I froze up and thought I was a magician. I enjoyed the trip for about 5 minutes.
Then, I started to feel like my spiritual energy was trying to escape my body leading to the fear of death and a falling sensation. Resembling falling through the pit of symbolical hell, my real self-felt like it had its own creation to separate from myself.
Like I realized, that I was made up of only the living and always the living anyway. It scared me even though I knew what it was because I felt blocked from mentally thinking it through. Now I’m okay.