Coney island brain damage, by Kuje tej
well I had the intention for this report/book/paper/essay in a notebook which is now AWOL so I guess I'll start from the beginning
Age 12, or 13, I dont even fucking remember, I started doing drugs. I remember my first drug experience very vividly. My sister was having a panic attack and I saw he gave her a pill, that pill being xanax, and I was enthralled by the sense of serenity I witnessed.
It just so happens that I suffer from lifelong anxiety, I didn't even know I had it until the first time I took xanax. I sort of played my dad to be honest, having an illegitamate panic attack for the sole purpose of trying that drug. Thirty minutes later I felt.. human. I didnt know how much I was missing out on until I took that drug. I was able to just.. sit.. and observe life, carry out my creative pursuits (which happened to be a stick figure riding a skateboard.
Guy takes xanax and the first thing he does is draw a fucking stick figure riding a skateboard with a fountain pen he ordered online just to have.. no particular reason, just.. to have. and Xanax made having fucking awesome. Having my room, my house, my family, my life.. it all just felt right.
I dont know if I was 12 or 13 like I said but I remember middle school being so much tolerable on benzos.. being able to think about my work and stay in the moment, not just being a walking sack of stress neurons with no flow. With xanax as a tool at my disposal, socializing was so much easier its not even funny. I continued to use xanax regularly without my parents finding out until the summer of 2012.. the best summer of my life. I'll get into that later
The first time I ever took adderall, was a little bit later than the first time I took xanax.. probably months. I was working on a project in gimp (a gay porning software) trying to alter my face to make myself look less ugly. There is so much freudian analysis that can come from that.. altering my face, taking adderall, then spending 12 fucking hours trying to make my nose look alright or whatever.. thankfully my quest of ALL (I will also get into that later) Gave me tons of summer fun, taking my runescape pill, which I jokingly called adderall, going to the beach club with my best friend Charlie (who I also will get into in a later chapter)
, rekindling a friendship with a guy I knew in gradeschool who turned out to be a really good friend, a lot more relatable than charlie, but with less of a brotherly love aspect. I'm not gay and I'm not going to get into my friendships in depth, unless it is relevant to this log. A life story? A journey from age 12 to 19 in a pharmacological lagoon? The swansong to a rehab rejact living with a bunch of people in south florida?
The success story of a woke individual who found himself after a long battle with addiction?
Pick your poison. I picked mine.
Chapter 2
I want to skip ahead of the adolescent tirade I had from late 2012 until 2013, except for the bundy
I dont remember if my lack of adderall and xanax once my mom raided my room and found them led to me doing bundy, or if it was just an interest in a potentially beneficial legal drug. Despite being inexperienced with psychedelics, and also being fuckin 13, I handled bundy extremely well. My first affair with it was in late 2012, with coricidin, the legendary triple cs. The result was amazing.
I had only taken a first plateau dose, but so many layers were opened up, like going from a one track mind to an onion of neuronal symphonium. Long story short, I found my new drug.
I associate bundy with jeremy, probably because, my drug use fractured my friendship with charlie right then and there. When he found out I was doing drugs on the reg and talking about them like its.. what do 13 year olds like talking about... world of warcraft? batman? sex? ... I dont know where im going with this so I digress, in a nutshell jeremy didnt give two fucks if I did drugs and was even open to the prospect of being my protege in the fine artisan colossol contentitous creatidivine prospectdefine chemical cousin.
Sorry about that. Trianglist is my native tongue (more on that in chapter 333)
So, I continued to do bundy.. I also had started seeing a psychiatrist to get my pharmaco-du-jour, concerta, the staple stimulant, various antidepressants, antipsychotics and mood stabilizers.. I guess thats what drugs will do to ya. make you rely on chemicals both useful and pointless just to get by.
Highschool was a fucking mess, I'm not even going to try to make it seem non-catastrophic. I was at the point in my life where I weighed 230 pounds, had fucked up neurochemistry from the drugs, and being a polysubstance abuser, and to me, that meant copious amounts of stimulants, deleriants, and whatever benzos I could get to quel my screaming soul. I missed multiple days a week, I didnt know where the classrooms are, I went to the nurse nearly every day to get a pass to go home for whateverthefuck ailment I was dealing with.
2013 was not a good year at all. Chapter 2
2014 on the other hand, was baller as fuck. I discovered this amazing chemical called propylhexedrine (as I like to call it, purple hexagon). An over the counter stimulant packed inside a fuckin oil tampon (cotton rod soaked in menthol and lavender) . By far the most uncomfortable thing Ive ever had the displeasure of tasting. The cotton is eaten (not reccomended, the right way is to soak it in soda for a day or find a way to manifest the freebase crystals). This shit made me fly so high its not even funny. The fact that its apparently a mainly noradrenergic drug with very low affinity for dopamine is also baffling. I had discovered legal meth.
This is when my current life begins. I had been kicked out of my band, gone under, the year previous, as charlie (lead vocalist and bands token heartthrob) moved on to greener pasteurs and the rest of us were left in the dust. I started experimenting with different styles of music, both on guitar and bass. The purp hex made it so fucking worthwhile that I've made hundreds of albums.
A benzedrex high is as follows: You eat cotton or ingest it to your hearts content, and you wait for about 45 minutes until you start feeling a boost of energy. This goes on for another 20 minutes as the body euphoria rises and your energy meets with the goddess of mental bliss and youre in the zone. Make sure youre doing something productive because if youre not youre about to spend hours either staring into nothingness or a crippling restless angst that comes in the form of lack of purpose.
Well might as well talk about spice. I smoked synthetic cannabinoids for the first time in late 2014 with jeremy. This was the most euphoric high I've ever had, and based on how jeremy reacted, through manic fast talking and obviously entheogenically affected as he seemed to be in a euphoria not unlike how a child feels in the beginning years of their life, exploring the workings of the world for the first time with an innocent manner, jeremy, who I feel had repressed feelings about his life, his friends, or himself. That is why the euphoric sense he felt appeared in a very ... non malicious way. My high was also like that, sweeping away the annoying intricacies of lifes dull movements, and forgetting my past and future and just focusing on the zooming by of the Electric light orchestra starship while the music cleansed my soul of all dissonance.
They say spice makes you violent, well , it honestly depends on the cannabinoid and the individual. It is so hard to pin down what chemical you are ingesting and how it will interact with your natural neurotransmission. Its like being exposed to hundreds of newly developed chemicals and having no clue which ones youre taking. Well, thats exactly how it goes.
But I think theres an innate quality in spice that can lead to complete and utter universe implosion. One bad vibe can send you from comfortably numb to flat out schizohell.
Towards the end of my first spice high, my eyes caught a razorblade lying on my desk. One look at jeremy . Him giving a look to the blade. NO NO NO he says WAIT WAIT WAIT I say. And I go to throw the blade into an inaccessable quadrant of 15-yr-old-room-mess , just to get it away.
We both knew what eachother was thinking, and it completely fucked over the trip. Long story short I gave him a bit of spizz to keep and hastily made him GTFO my house before he killed me.
Chapter 3- A whole new side of the intergalactic tide
I'd like to start this chapter summing up what drove me into insanity for the last time. I was in a rut. Late 2017. The year had been both filled with intense feelings and also complete destruction. July 7 2017, I was hanging out with John. Many doses of a stimulant, focalin, were split between us, and we jammed all day. Towards the night, we were hanging out with a drug dealer and I of course gave him a sample of the drug. I was movin on up in the world, chillin with a dealer, what could go wrong?
Well my obvious mental instability was attempted to be quelled by John who, I dont know if he maliciously took my pills to have for himself and used friendly caring as a ruse, or if he was genuinliy concerned about my health.
Well my health soon came to crisis as we got into a fist fight, one thing lead to another and I was screaming, bleeding from my head, as a glass had just been smashed over it.
This is when my life changed for good.
Post injury, there was no longer a calmness to the silence, or a roar of rebellion from inside my cerebellum, but a burnt out state of the art wallowing months of hell. Spice I dove into again, stimulants I still fucked with but had lost their charm, and my sanity had been sapped one iota by one. The light is no more.
And then I get on methadone.
My moms suggestion, to help with my opiate addiction. Worst thing that ever happened to me, I became emaciated and my teeth were rotting out, I spent all of my time doing as many drugs as possible to potentiate whatever ''buzz'' I got from the deathadone. I became very angry and agitated, despite being on a soothing opiate, my delusions were still going full force. They started in early 2017 and sort of remained there and still exist. My first true blue brain symptom, as when not on drugs, either on meds or off meds, my delusions stayed, and that really sucks. The head injury gave me OCD about my brain shrinking, coupled with skull changing shape and the posibility of never being able to feel again.
bundy and dph became companions, every day I lay in bed, smoking pot, robotripping and passing out into a methadone coma. By far the darkest point in my life, worse than any other situation. This time I was taking drugs to just not.. exist. I didnt want to die, I just didnt want to feel. At this point drugs became my life, and my life became the drugs. I'm surprised I even came out of it,
