What do you prescribe for people with HPPD

HPPD / Acid Flashbacks and How to Get Rid of Them


1 HPPD / Acid Flashbacks and how to get rid of them This article is now also available in an extended form as a free ebook: Introduction: What are Flashbacks or HPPD? Flashbacks or getting stuck are among the most infamous urban legends or modern myths surrounding the use of LSD and other psychedelics. They are also the most common stories, right next to the famous jumping out of the window because you think you could fly, which you receive from the ignorant as a warning about these substances. The facts are: The lintel myth is pure nonsense. On psychedelics like LSD or psilocin, one does not fall into delirium, nor do one develop such delusions. Something like this is more likely, if at all, possible on real, non-psychedelic hallucinogens, such as nightshade plants, e.g. angel's trumpet or deadly nightshade. But anyone who consumes nightshade plants voluntarily can no longer be helped. (Nightshade plants are highly poisonous, can lead to permanent psychological and physical damage, and the hallucinations they cause, in contrast to the pseudohallucinations induced by psychedelics, cannot be distinguished from reality by the consumer. Link to a report on a devastating, albeit unfortunately typical, nightshade consumption :) Also getting stuck, i.e. being on a trip forever, is not possible. LSD and Co. disappear within 48

2 hours after ingestion completely out of the body (exceptions are some new research chemicals such as Bromo-Dragonfly, which take up to 72 hours). However, psychedelics can cause latent psychoses to break out through their mind-expanding effects. It must be noted that they cannot induce / create psychoses like cannabis, alcohol or amphetamines. In someone with a latent psychosis, this psychosis will break out on its own sooner or later, psychedelics only accelerate and intensify this process in such individuals. Large-scale long-term studies in the USA in 2014 came to the conclusion that psychedelics seem to have little effect on the likelihood of becoming mentally ill when viewed over the entire lifetime. Only a statistically reduced suicidality could be found in psychedelic users. Flashbacks caused by psychedelics do not exist in the sense in which they are presented in popular media. Correct flashbacks are symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder that can arise as a result of trauma. It is very unlikely that someone will be traumatized by a (horror) trip in the same way that they develop PTSD with flashbacks as they are by the classic triggers such as a war mission or rape (although it is entirely possible, which is why it is always important to determine the setting and setting of the Pay attention to consumption!). However, there is a rare illness that occurs statistically in about 1 of psychedelic users, if not less often, in which the person concerned still or repeatedly experiences psychedelic pseudo-hallucinations even after the end of the trip. This disease is called HPPD (Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder) and it is one of the causes of the flashback myth. With her, the person concerned experiences mostly only occasionally in moments of relaxation or constantly (mostly weak)

3 pseudo-hallucinations similar to a trip, although the substance has long since ceased to be under the influence of the substance. This disorder is usually of a purely visual nature and is very weak. In rare, severe cases, psychedelic experiences such as depersonalization, wild associations, changes in the perception of time and synesthesia are added to the visual disturbances. In contrast to a psychosis, however, the person affected can perceive the disturbances of perception for what they are at any time and distinguish them from reality. HPPD is actually very rare, but the likelihood of being affected increases significantly the more frequently and the more it is consumed. Another rare disorder possibly related to HPPD is Alice in Wonderland Syndrome. In this syndrome, the person concerned experiences the world in a wrong way and hallucinates. Big things appear small, small things big and there are also falsifications in the perception of time and space and the sense of touch and taste. This rare syndrome sometimes occurs after seizures or severe migraines. There is only one documented case in which the syndrome was also triggered by LSD in an Israeli man. The affected person refused any drug treatment and the symptoms or the syndrome disappeared on their own within 12 months. (Link to the study on the case: In 90% of all cases the symptoms of HPPD and similar disorders disappear on their own within 6 months, and in almost all cases within one year of consuming the triggering substance. There are also some rare cases of HPPD that was not caused by psychedelics or other hallucinogens, but by stimulants such as amphetamine, MDMA or Ritalin. Furthermore, phenomena like them at HPPD

4 occur, even in completely healthy people occasionally occur spontaneously or are induced by sensory deprivation, sleep deprivation or intensive meditation. How does HPPD arise? How exactly HPPD develops has not yet been researched due to its rarity. However, it has been discovered that psychedelics such as psilocybin and DMT (ayahuasca) increase the brain's sensitivity to serotonin after the trip and thus have an antidepressant effect for several weeks. Too little serotonin, e.g. due to a metabolic disorder, amphetamine consumption or a diet low in tryptophan, leads to depression and sleep problems. Too much serotonin, however, can lead to pseudo-hallucinations, such as floating textures or breathing walls, as seen from the trip. This increased sensitivity may lead to HPPD in some predisposed people who already have high serotonin levels. In the brain, LSD mimics the effect of serotonin on the serotonin 5HT2A receptors in the thalamus, which are also activated during intense meditation and dreaming. How do you get rid of the HPPD? Serotonin sensitivity largely regresses within six weeks and mostly completely within several months, and so does HPPD. In over 90% of cases, the symptoms of HPPD go away within 6 months. It is important not to consume any psychedelics, MAO inhibitors / SSRIs or stimulating drugs, including caffeine or nicotine and especially no amphetamines, during the HPPD and 6 months after the HPPD has subsided. L-tryptophan supplementation should be discontinued if it is pursued. The consumption of coffee and dark chocolate should be avoided.

5 You just have to give the brain the peace of mind to get its serotonin balance under control again. As a rule, drug treatment of any kind is rather counterproductive. If the HPPD is very pronounced, the sedating valerian and the neuroleptic St. John's wort have proven to be effective in at least partially suppressing the HPPD symptoms. Valerian can be consumed as a tea twice a day. If it is not enough, you can try St. John's wort, but with caution. In some, St. John's wort intensifies the HPPD or can lead to other, undesirable and paradoxical effects. Furthermore, the person concerned should make sure to get as much sleep as possible and avoid stress. Also, one should not pay too much attention to the HPPD or be particularly upset about it. The more desperate you are, the more severe symptoms can become. There is nothing you can do anyway except wait, relax, and stay abstinent. HPPD will always go away sooner or later. If the HPPD does not resolve within 12 months, a psychiatrist should be consulted under certain circumstances to determine whether the administration of stronger neuroleptics or of lamotrigine or clonidine would not make sense. If the HPPD is accompanied by anxiety attacks or severe stress, outpatient psychotherapy should be considered, or at least entrusting the problems to a loved one. In general, however, there is a risk of developing HPPD or flashbacks from one-time psychedelic use with a probability of 0.002%, which is practically negligible. In the case of high-dose continuous consumption (individually different, as an average value more often than 4

6 times a year LSD), on the other hand, HPPD is almost inevitable. This article was written by a layperson. Even if the greatest care was taken in the research, the correctness of the information contained therein cannot be guaranteed. If you have any medical questions, contact your doctor or pharmacist. Do not take drugs or medication without consulting a doctor. If this article helped you or entertained you, then I would be happy if you bought me a coffee with which I can write even more articles like this Buy coffee via Ko-Fi Paranoia (4): The monster shows its true colors It screeched. I ran away, hearing behind me the sniffing of the flaming nostrils and the scratching of the claws. It came closer and closer, caught up with me. I stumbled over roots through the mist-shrouded forest while I could feel the glowing breath on my back. It reached out to me. I screamed and fell down. The ground gave under me like black pudding and screaming I sank into the darkness. Panting and trembling, I straightened up in my bed. Blackness around me. Cold sweat soaked the sheets and blankets. I could still see it. Panicked groped

7 I look for the light switch on my bedside lamp. The lights went on, the demons withdrew into the shadows with silent screams, and I grabbed the ax by my bed. My chest trembled as I raised the heavy weapon in my emaciated arms. I could feel it was still there. I slowly turned around, but there was only the wall. I spun around, my room still bathed in the menacing semi-darkness. I didn't even dare blink because I knew the smallest mistake could be my last. And then I heard you. She whispers my name. A shiver trickled down my back like melting snow. “Who's who?” I stammered. My heart pounded in panic in my chest like someone buried alive in his coffin. I jumped out of bed and swung the ax. "Who's there?" I yelled in a frightened voice. She whispered my name and giggled. "Get out of here," I said, but nothing but a frightened croak came out of my narrowed throat. Sweat ran down my whole body and everything began to spin, to dance like a fairground carousel, but at the same time it disappeared. I sighed in relief, vision stabilized. The door was thrown open. I shrieked and swung the ax through the air. "What the hell are you doing?" Asked my mother, who was standing in the doorway. I lowered the ax, breathing heavily: “I me. so. had a nightmare. SorryAha, ”she said, pointing to the ax. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything I got ahead of her: “Can you go please. I want to sleep now, "I said with involuntary intensity and anger." Okay. Good night. But if you're in trouble, we can have a good night, ”I snapped, forcing her out of the room. When she was outside, I barricaded the door from the inside with a chair. Then I switched on the ceiling lamp and searched the room, moving closets and rummaging through clothes. No matter how long I looked, I could

8 Cannot find the audio device my mother used to play the voice. I was pretty sure by now that my family wanted to drive me crazy so they could get rid of me, the fucking junkie and trouble boy. To do this, they added NBOMEs to the water in the restaurant, played tapes with voices and reported me to the police so that the civilians would make me paranoid. But I wouldn't put up with that, and my prudent self-sufficiency had already thwarted them. "Keep it up and the wankers will give up soon," I muttered to myself as I was emptying another drawer . Nothing. In the end I couldn't find the sound machine and gave up. I went back to my bed to get some sleep, but as soon as I closed my eyes I had the feeling that a presence was trying to sneak into my room. I opened my eyes again, felt that something was about to pounce on me and switched on the light just in time. The darkness and with it the feeling of threat disappeared. I sat in my bed until morning, sweating and clutching my ax tightly. Only when the sun had risen did the feeling of threat disappear and I nodded off, exhausted. In the evening I only left the room once to get more water and a bucket to shit in. By now my cursed family had hid tapes all over the house because I could hear the woman's voice over and over again. There was something erotic about her, but I ignored it. They wouldn't get me with that. But when the presenter started talking about me on the radio, I almost freaked out and cut the power cord. Even the public had drawn my family to their side. Everyone was talking behind their hands about me, that I was doing drugs, going crazy, and hearing voices. Bullshit. I went to my room and nailed the door shut from the inside. Fuck wanker, from now on I had all the cards in hand

9 was safe I hoped. I spent the night restlessly roaming the room with my ax. My eyes kept closing and then an unbearable panic seized me. By now the woman's voice had grown in intensity and she was talking suggestive things, but I was too exhausted to listen. My legs were thin, the skin hanging limply from them. I was sweating and struggling to hold the ax, but the fear of It was greater than my physical weakness. Sometime around dawn, I sat down in front of the window. I kept hearing noises behind me and turned around, but there was nothing. As the first rays of sun rose over the horizon, I heard a car approaching and voices. Shortly afterwards, a large armored vehicle stopped in front of our house. Masked fighters with submachine guns and police badges accompanied by civilians jumped out. My heart started racing. No. The cops had decided to take the final blow and put me in jail for the Salvia Divinorum they had caught from the post office. My mother came out of the house and spoke to the police officers, who soon disappeared under me in the front door. I screamed and moaned, pounding my fist against the wall. Damn wankers! They wouldn't get me alive. I got up and took the ax. My vision swayed, the walls wobbled, my eyes kept falling and I felt a tug in my head, but at the same time my heart was racing. I positioned myself in front of the door, ready to fight. There was a knock. "Come out," yelled a policeman on the other side. I was silent. I was too tired, and any answer would be just good food for the prosecution anyway. "We're coming in now," the voice called. The door rattled. "He nailed the inside of it," I heard my mother

10 whisper. Accursed traitor. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. "Shit, this is serious. We have no other choice. ”The door shuddered with one blow. My degenerated muscles involuntarily twitched. I felt like I was standing on a cloud that could dissolve at any moment. Another punch or kick. The wood groaned. I could see the nails slowly pushing out on the door, like squeezed out blackheads. Another tremor hit the door. Nails jumped to the ground, my jaw clenched. With a loud crack, the door shattered. Half a dozen police officers in riot gear pounced on me with their bare hands. I jerked my ax up, screaming, and let it down. She narrowly missed a cop who ducked away. Before I could correct the mistake, someone jumped on me from the other side and knocked us both to the ground. The ax flew away and I screamed as two more cops grabbed me and pulled me up. I kicked my legs and screeched as a third drew his knife and walked towards me. The blade sank into my stomach. I roared in pain, then the cop pulled out the knife and it started to melt. I fell silent, amazed. It turned into a syringe. The cops' uniforms melted into white paramedic outfits. Confused, I looked around, felt how tired I was. My limbs went slack, my thoughts sank under a thick blanket of cotton wool. They dragged me down the stairs and heaved my heavy body onto a stretcher. My mother came to me and took my hand. She cried.I looked up at her and mumbled, "I'm sorry for the salvia I'm going to jail for that. Don't worry, this won't happen. Why else would you take me with you? Because you need help. I found Das Salvia in the post office three weeks ago and threw it away. You could have told us that you were a drug pro ”She got no further.

11 I laughed like mad. That fucking salvia hadn't even been confiscated by the police? Was it it had been intercepted and disposed of by my mother all along? I had stressed myself unnecessarily. All the worries about the civilians were unfounded, as pointless as the whole madness. I laughed and laughed and started throwing my arms around myself uncontrollably. I just couldn't take it anymore. That was too weird, too fucked up. All the stress and despair exploded out of me in delusional and senseless laughter. I was still laughing loudly and stammered: "intercepted it was intercepted the whole time my brain is fucked hahaha intercepted that salvia, the civilian my mam" when I was pushed into the ambulance and someone said: "more diazepam. The guy goes completely crazy «. Shortly afterwards a dark veil fell over the world and I fell asleep, died? Paranoia (3): Hunger There was pollen in the air and my eyes were watery, my skin itched and I had rashes all over the place. It sucks to be allergic. The immune system just has a paranoid bang, attacks harmless proteins that it considers hostile and destroys the body with stress hormones and histamines in the process. Antihistamines can be used to counteract the release of histamine, which causes itching and swelling. For example cetirizine. My companion in spring and summer since childhood. I went into the kitchen and took a box of the miracle cure from the medicine cabinet. I squeezed a tablet from the blister into the palm of my hand and turned to the sink to pour myself a glass of water. Suddenly I froze as if struck by lightning. What were the side effects of cetirizine actually? I looked for the package insert. Very rarely called

12 the remedy produced allergic reactions. I felt my pores drain sweat and my lungs contract. What if I was allergic to it? Severely allergic? So that I went into anaphylactic shock and died? I had taken it hundreds of times, but allergies could develop spontaneously and then I would die. I could see myself in front of my inner eyes, suffocating on the floor with a swollen throat twitching. Death from allergy to an antiallergic drug. I threw the pill in the trash. Breathing deeply, I stumbled away. I had just escaped death. At least I thought so. One evening there was tortillas to eat. My favorite food until this day. I cut up a tortilla with a knife and fork while my parents and siblings shoved the tortillas into their mouths with their hands. "Why don't you eat with your hands?" One of my brothers asked me in amazement. "Because of the dirt on your fingers Illnesses and all, ”I muttered, and he nodded in confusion before turning away from me. I'd always been a weird quirk to my family, so no one was surprised by my new eating habit. I was just chewing my third or fourth bite with relish when a thought shot into my head. What if the flatbread was expired or wasn't made from pure corn, after all, I was allergic to wheat? My jaw froze and I felt sick. I mumbled something and got up. In the kitchen I spat the chyme out of my mouth into the organic waste and started rummaging through the plastic waste. I found the tortilla wrap and turned pale. It expired nine days ago. I turned it over with trembling fingers. Wheat flour (20%) was written in bold next to the ingredients. I dropped the pack and rushed into the bathroom screaming. My family called after me in amazement. I fell to my knees and rammed my hands into my throat. Always and always

13 again until my aching and battered digestive system reared up and I vomited a few bites. I cried. "What is it," I heard my mother's worried voice. "What is it?" I roared, the veil of tears before my eyes shook. "You almost killed me! The tortillas contain wheat and have expired "my mother looked at me as if I had gone mad." You always ate them. That little bit has never harmed you and a few days I'm allergic and it's been nine days! I'm going to die! Call the ambulance! ”Screaming, I rushed into the living room to the phone to dial 911. My brother stood in my way. My parents sent me to my room, where I wept and waited for my death, which did not come. Since that day I have been cooking for myself. I took a glass out of the cupboard and was about to add water when I saw something that made me pause. There was a semi-transparent layer at the bottom of the glass. Lime? But maybe also dried detergent? I put the glass down to drink straight from the tap. My heart stopped. There was a large white lump with a yellow tinge on the faucet's filter. Mould? No. That was lime. Normal limescale deposits. But what kind of pathogens might live on it? I went to the supermarket to buy bottles of water. I watched a YouTube video and ate chips out of the bag with a fork. With the fork so I wouldn't contaminate the chips with my fingers. After a while, I got the feeling that the chips tasted strange. They could be kept for a long time, but maybe contaminated or something. I threw away half the pack and puked. On Wednesday I went shopping in town with my mother. I looked around again and again. I felt a strange one

14 Tugging in my head like someone's trying to read my mind. Most of the time when I went shopping I spent thinking in a complicated way or not thinking at all, in order to confuse the mind readers. The toilet flush rushed behind me and I went back to my room. I sat back at my PC and reached for an open bottle when a terrible thought seized me. What if someone put LSD, NBOMEs, or poison in my water while I was pissing? Maybe my brother Maybe Tim? I could already see in my mind's eye how I would go crazy screaming and throwing up on a bath trip. I wrinkled my nose, then closed the bottle, tossed it in the trash, and opened a new one. I was drinking and suddenly I felt like I was being watched. I put the bottle down and slowly reached under the table for the knife that I had attached there. I turned around as if by accident. Our eyes met and I growled angrily. The civilian on the balcony across the street, with his oh so cool sunglasses, announced that he was going to take a sunbath again. I let go of the knife and grinned. No more evidence, except for the salvia in the mail, but you can't prove their order to me. At least I know how to wash bitcoins. Fuck beer prollos. I went to the window and put the shutters down forever. I had nothing to hide, but I didn't have to be shadowed either. The last time I left the house for a family bike trip to a Greek restaurant a few kilometers away. I felt feverish and dizzy, like I was about to break down. My heart was racing with fear of collapse and sweat poured down me. The sun burned mercilessly. My legs had little strength because I hadn't exercised for a long time and had lost several kilos of body weight.

15 A couple of civil cops came towards us and once I even saw a police car on the side of the road, but I kept calm and drove after my family. Panting and puffing, I somehow kept up and was relieved when we finally arrived. We sat in the beer garden. There were people everywhere drinking their filthy drug, ethanol, and I bet quite a few of you were close to the police. The waiter came to us. He grinned suspiciously. We ordered drinks and after some hesitation I opted for prawns. The guy made a note of everything, smiled conspiratorially and disappeared towards the kitchen. My family talked and talked, but I wasn't listening. I felt like I was suffocating and drowsy, while my heart was pounding in panic against my ribs. I kept my eyes closed, trying to breathe calmly. I could have a stroke or a heart attack at any moment, I could tell. Maybe it had already happened, but there was nothing I could do about that anyway, so I tried to stay calm. When asked by my family members, I replied with a growl: “Don't have a headache now. All right. 'The waiter brought the drinks. He put a glass of mineral water in front of me. No juice, after all, I could be allergic to the fruits in it, and to soda, which killed at least a few bacteria. I was thirsty and realized that I was completely dehydrated, but I eyed the glass suspiciously. Was it clean? Perhaps the restaurant staff had forgotten to rinse it properly and there was hepatitis-contaminated spit from another guest or carcinogenic detergent residue in it? Or? I looked around suspiciously. Maybe it was poisoned, but even if I did, I couldn't let it show. I reached for the glass and took a sip. The water ran down my withered throat. It had a bitter aftertaste. Very weak, but pretty sure there. My jaw tightened. I

16 got up and mumbled something about the toilet. With quick steps I made my way to the restaurant toilet. I made sure I was alone and locked the door behind me. Then I spat the water out of my mouth into the sink. I took a deep breath and brushed my long hair back from my face. The mirror irritated me. I thought I saw myself in it, emaciated and with sunken cheeks and thick circles under the eyes. I was definitely not healthy and that was due to the constant attempts at poisoning and the stress that the surveillance by Zivis brings with it. I stared at myself more closely, but when I tried to get parts of my face they blurred, seemed to swim and change shape. I could only see an abstraction of myself. My palms got wet and I had to hold back a scream. That in the mirror wasn't a face. It was a misshapen thing that scared me. Nausea and deep disgust rose in me. I rushed out of the toilet, where I immediately slowed my pace and walked slowly so as not to attract any attention, which was pointless. I could feel everyone's eyes as I went to my seat and sat down like nothing had ever happened. As if nothing ever happened! As if! The food had already been brought in in the meantime. I looked up at my family members and discreetly tried to study their faces. My heart leapt. These too were misshapen. If I looked briefly, I recognized the features I was familiar with, but if I looked at them more closely, they became blurred. I stared at my brother's nose. It breathed, got bigger and smaller again, vanished and merged into his face. His face! What did it look like anyway? I couldn't see it. I got chills. The misshapen thing looked up, discovered me: “Are you all right? Do I have something on my face? "Asked a distant voice that echoed in my head." Yes. Yes. No Um, I was just staring in front of me. ",

17 answered my distant voice, which was overwhelmed with all that. "Aha," said something, said my brother, and went back to eating. I did the same. On the plate in front of me were four large prawns and a small pile of rice. They looked strange. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could make out a slight yellow tinge. Reluctantly, I cut out a small piece of the white meat and put it in my mouth. Chewed. Grimacing his face. It tasted strange. How did normal shrimp taste? And was I allergic to shrimp? Fatal anaphylactic shock shot through my mind. Sea animals had been my favorite food from a young age, but suddenly I was no longer entirely sure and grabbed a napkin, turned around and pretended to blow my nose. I spat and went hungry until the evening when I ate corn cakes and vitamin tablets. Paranoia (2): The day after I brooded at my desk, paused and let my gaze wander out the window. I winced. A man in sunglasses was sitting on a balcony across the street. He appeared to be basking, but instinctively I knew he was watching me. I got up and rolled down the blinds. Shit, that was sure to be a civilian. They'd caught the Aztec sage or some shit told them I was going to deal to get some relief for myself. It ran through me hot and cold and I got goose bumps. I went to my bed and lay down on the floor in front of it. Shortly afterwards the unlocked suitcase was in front of me. Lots of Ritalin the basis of my business, which I prescribed when I was thirteen

18 and put it down and stacks of jars with various pills and herbs. Some legal, some not. Coca leaves, blue lotus, a brown cough syrup bottle filled with self-synthesized chloroform, wood rose seeds, kratom and a plate of hash, normal chocolate and knaster, five LSD blotters, 200g pharmaceutically 100% pure caffeine powder to stretch or sniff, test kits to test goods for excipients, Of course, a fine scale and hundreds of transparent pharmacy bags. Much. A lot, but most of it I didn't take myself or only once and never again. I was a researcher and entrepreneur with Tim. But that was history now. I would completely cede the business to him. The beer proles hung on my ass, I was getting paranoid and Tim was no. Tim didn't take me seriously and was an amoralistic psycho, it crossed my mind. He made me take the Kanna pills, laughed at me on the bad trip, and let me down. Why should I give this stuff to Tim? We had both built the business together, but I had the sources and contacts, bought Bitcoins and on the DarkNet and met with wholesalers. He only delivered to customers and was one of the biggest himself. He lived on my money. And he was taking advantage of me, I realized. I stored with myself, had it delivered to my address and he was the beneficiary, but when the going got tough he would let me down. I couldn't trust him. I flushed the drugs down the toilet. I went to the garden shed and got 2kg of thermite from a bag that I hid there. Before I was a drug dealer, I was passionate about explosives, but I had detonated the last pipe bomb a long time ago and dumped the last of the chemicals in the trash. I packed the case with the remaining evidence full of thermite. I took the encrypted hard drive from my laptop and threw it in with me. It's a shame about the bitcoins. Before I set off, I saw Christian Rätsch's encyclopedia of psychoactive plants on my shelf. That damn, shitty book was too expensive

19 and hard to destroy it. I would have to keep it for now and sell it later. I drove to the former, abandoned military airport near Neubiberg, south of Munich. I remembered how I used to go there with a backpack full of HMTD or Apex to blow up dog waste bins for fun and to shit the hell out of drunkards with pyrotechnics, flares and puddles of gasoline. Just the thought made me sick and got goose bumps despite the heat. How could I have been so reckless to do something so dangerous? Just the suitcase full of evidence in my hand made the blood sink into my balls. The whole time I looked around and hooked hooks through the bushes to shake off the civilians. And I used to drive around here carefree, even when I had enough explosives in my backpack to clear a subway. Why was I so damn scared all of a sudden? I put a fuse in the suitcase and looked around hurriedly. The small strip of asphalt, isolated by bushes, was well hidden, but I was afraid someone might come by. I waited. Nothing happened, so I lit the green cord, which immediately hissed, sparkling. I ran to my bike. My heart was beating up to my neck. The hissing sparks disappeared with a small cloud of smoke inside the suitcase. I held my breath. Would it ignite? If not, I had a problem. Just at the moment when I thought I had failed, there was a loud crackle and hiss. The suitcase ripped open and a column of fire at 2600C shot up into the sky. I stepped on the pedal and raced off. My temples pulsed. I had the feeling that at any moment a civilian would tear me off my bike and incarcerate me for arson. Well, better than drug trafficking; they would no longer be able to prove that to me. I fell from a beaten path out of the bushes, panting and drenched in sweat, with screeching tires

20 street.I slowed down and took a deep breath. Then I drove away slowly and inconspicuously. A man in sunglasses strolled towards me. My stomach tightened, but I still had to suppress a smile. He was probably a civilian who was supposed to be monitoring me, but all the evidence and fingerprints had just gone up in smoke. They couldn't help me anymore. Too late, you son of a bitch. I spent a lot of time on Wikipedia reading about diseases and poisoning. Somehow, I felt like something was wrong with my health. I also broke off contact with Tim and the other dealers. I had the feeling that he just wanted to take advantage of me and eventually kill me. He had introduced me to the world of drugs, but only to harm my health and capitalize on my understanding of business and technology. I was suddenly sure that at the class reunion he hadn't swallowed the pills and was only enjoying my ailment. Filthy, sadistic bastard. Probably, no, pretty sure, one day he would kill me because he was fascinated by serial killers and had often said he would like to know what it feels like to kill. I hadn't thought much of it before because my interests were similar and he was my best friend, but since I discovered that he was just exploiting and manipulating me, I mistrusted him. [To be continued] Here it goes to part 3 ===>

21 Paranoia (1): The Trip This is a four-part novel, of which I will publish an episode every week. The plot and characters are fictional. You could look for the beginnings and causes in my childhood or in the previous months of experimentation, but I believe that it began on that hot July day. The sun was beating down on us from the cloudless sky, the sweat soaked my T-shirt. "Well, I don't know," I said. "Come on, dude, that'll be nice," replied Tim. "It's kind of pointless for me . everyone but us will drink. I won't touch the fucking Alk safe anyway, but we can get in the mood and try something new at the same time. ”He pulled out the shiny bag and waved it around in front of my nose, not two meters from a busy intersection. My heart jumped. “Put this away. You can't wave it around in public, "I snapped angrily." It's legal anyway, "grumbled Tim." And everyone in this alcoholic shitty country knows that, or what? They only see two sweaty teenagers with sunglasses swallowing pills from colorful sachets. I'm not in the mood for stress with the beer proles from the police or any bourgeoisie. Okay. Okay, "he relented and put it away." Will you take it? It would be one more plant to tick off the encyclopedia. Kanna.Sceletium tortuosum. Exactly. But it's not just the highly stimulating kanna. This synephrine and caffeine are still in the pills. And we just hit on woodrose and weed last week. We don't just have absolute

22 Ethanol abstinence, but also 6-week breaks between the individual experiments sworn and if you do not stick to it, the world will end or what? Don't piss around now. You even sold me that stuff. ”I sighed and wiped the sweat from my forehead. He was right about that. A dealer who didn't want to take his own material was all sorts of things, but not a promise of quality. “Okay. I'll be there, but only if we take it in the loo, because I'm not in the mood for unnecessary attention. "I pointed to the escalators to the underground." What? Like so fucking junkies in the station loo? Poor. Just a poor move. "I pretended to be stubborn." At Leary's, damn it, "said Tim, wrinkling his nose." It smells bad here, "I shrugged. It was a train station toilet. It smelled of piss, black dirt stuck in the joints of the tile walls and floors, a cabin door was broken, newspaper fluttered around and right next to the door was one of those dingy sex toy-and-condom machines. I probed the situation. Not a bum we bothered with sleeping, not a junkie lying drooling in the corner with a needle in his arm. The stench had probably scared away all potential residents. "The air is clean," I said, "give it to me." Tim tore open the silver bag with the colorful logo and poured the contents onto the palm of his hand. Four big brown pills. Each took two and washed them down with mineral water. I closed my eyes, feeling the hot adrenaline rush through my veins, making me shiver like every time I used an unknown substance for the first time. I smiled and said, "I have to piss." We crossed the street. It was hot. I sweated, I did

23 was sweating extremely and felt a pressure on my chest. I had the vague feeling that I had made a mistake, but I still couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. Tim's voice got through to me, but I didn't listen until he had finished and I could tell by the sound that he had asked me something. “What?” I asked lost in thought. “Is everything all right with you? You look pretty upset. No, it's okay, ”I said, forcing a big grin. I couldn't get too involved in the negative thoughts, or my set would tip over and things would only get worse. I did my best to suppress the doubts, but I was sweating like mad and felt myself getting hotter and hotter. I took out my phone and googled the ingredients in the legal high. I already knew it by heart, but suddenly I felt the urge to check that I hadn't missed something. It contained an extract of Sceletium tortuosum Kanna, a euphoric and strongly stimulating plant, the effects of which are comparable to cocaine, synephrine, an ephedrine substitute, which is used as a circulatory stimulant and fat burner, and tons of caffeine. Shit, I thought. I've had circulatory problems from time to time anyway and stimulants in the heat? Where I can't take Upper anyway? Why did I let myself be persuaded? Suddenly I felt really sick. My whole body stiffened. The blood sank to the legs. Before I could think any further, voices were calling our names. I looked up and recognized my former classmates. It was going to be a terrible elementary school reunion. I welcomed the people, some of whom hadn't seen me for six years and would now see how I went crazy. Fucking gonzo. We all went to EDEKA on Tierparkstrasse together. There were ten of us now, the rest would be the same

24 arrive. I wandered nervously between the shelves and grabbed a milk the best natural detox agent if I remembered Albert Hoffmann's anecdote about his first, unintended trip on acid correctly. Plus a box of muesli. Suddenly I didn't feel like having the planned barbecue on the Isar. The sight of meat made me sick, as if I was about to throw up. Sweating and breathing heavily, I stood in line at the cash register. I bobbed back and forth on my heels nervously and scratched. In front of me was a former classmate who gossiped excitedly and gleefully about something, but her words didn't penetrate my mind through the chaos of thoughts. I nodded silently, my throat feeling tight. Suddenly someone clapped me on the shoulder. Startled, I spun around. Tim stood behind me. He grinned and whispered, “It's flooding. Great, great, great. Do you feel it too? ”I nodded. I had to go straight away, get the fucking drug out of my body. While the others lined up at an ice cream parlor and exchanged news laughing, I rushed off to jab my fingers into my throat a little to one side. My stomach rebelled and refused, but finally a stream of gall-bitter puke shot at my feet. Not much. I heard someone calling me. At first I had vomited enough. I wiped the gastric juice from my mouth, took a sip of milk, and made my way back to the group with shaky legs. I smiled and felt a lot more confident behind my sunglasses. Then I felt the effects getting stronger, everything spinning in my head and even more sweat gushing out of my pores. My smile turned crooked, one damned man's. When we crossed the Thalkirchen bridge in the blazing sun, I thought I was dying of heat stroke. My flesh, the air, and my eyes glowed, my throat felt dry. I wanted to scream.

25 We sat on stones on the banks of the Isar. My heart ran amok uncontrollably and beat wildly against my chest. I sat quietly in the group that had gathered around one-way crickets and crates of beer. Tim grinned like a honey cake horse. My stomach rumbled. I grabbed my mouth and jumped up and ran to the river and lined up inside. I wiped my mouth and started walking around nervously. My body burned, it was so hot. My shorts were stuck to my thighs. Crap. I pulled out my cell phone and googled substances, trip reports and drug emergencies, stumbled upon the deadly serotonin syndrome caused by stimulants combined with monoamine oxidase inhibitors. Did I take MAO inhibitors? Passion flower three days earlier, right? No, that was several months ago. Suddenly I wasn't sure anymore. My thoughts swirled, memories and fears, fears, lies and truths merged. How long did it last? Was it a reversible or irreversible MAO inhibitor? The sweat ran off the display. "Tim," I whispered, feeling as if I was suffocating. "Tim. Tim! "He was sitting around with his back to me, apparently listening as one of the girls said something about her boyfriend." Tim! "I whimpered desperately, tugging at his T-shirt. He turned to me. “I have to go to the hospital. I'm really sick. "He smiled and waved him away." Ah what. Chill. "" What's wrong with him? "Asked a girl, looking at me worried." Ah, he only pushes Paras because he's on a trip. Will be again. What? You take drugs? ”Our former classmates stared at us in horror, one of them, Franz, smiled knowingly, I stumbled away and puked.

26 I was about to die. I was about to die of serotonin syndrome, drooling and passed out. I ran in circles. Ate more granola to calm down, until halfway through the pack I noticed it contained hazelnuts. I am allergic to hazelnuts. I started throwing up again. "I have to go to the hospital, please! Ah what. Seriously, I'll die. Then go alone. I'm afraid of collapsing on the way." Tim made a joint with Franz. I puked halfway across the bank. "I have to go to the hospital," I shouted. Tim laughed and pulled on the joint. Hospital. Caffeine. The world turned and turned and my heart skipped. Throw up. Throw up. Laugh. Grin Tim smokes Joint tototum .. Sweat all full of sweat. Piss. my hands were shaking hospital must Kanna Tim puke laughs..serotonin syndrome MAO..dying mom help me! I don't want to be dead. DieDeathHospitalDrug deathLife is finito. I was afraid. The memories are nothing but a hazy veil of feverish panic. The S-Bahn rattled away. Central Station. I sipped carefully from a bottle of water. Are you feeling better? ”Tim asked me. I nodded. “Yes, but from now on we'll stick to the consumption breaks. And no more upper, ok. You still have disc pupils, by the way. ”I laughed. I had swallowed the pills five hours earlier. The S3 pulled in and we got up. I felt physically drained, but my mind was alert. Tim shuffled next to me in silence on the way home. It was dark and I kept looking around. I would

27 the feeling of being watched. There was nobody behind us. My thoughts drifted to the fortune teller sage or Salvia divinorum. The delivery from the Netherlands should have arrived long ago. Perhaps customs intercepted them? Perhaps at that moment cops ransacked my room and found my stash of drugs and dealers' supplies. Panic rose in me. My chest tightened and my hands got wet. An unbearable fear seized me the closer we got to my house. Zivis would take hold of me at any moment. Nothing happened. We said goodbye. I unlocked. It was dark, luckily my family was already asleep. Exhausted, I collapsed on my bed. [To be continued] You can find these and other stories in this book: Here it goes to part 2 ==> Paranoia (2)