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Writer's pictureAniss Benarrioua

Psychedelic Trip Report IIV




On a lazy Sunday stuck in the vibes of suffering I came to throw myself on a micro psychedelic trip for the sake of finding myself.  I swallowed the pill at 1 or 2 pm hesitating but with a trust that came from a desperation of not being able to see the poetic world I lived in. My aim was to find myself and reinvent it. To reset my principles and the books I lived to create. Disgusted by the flaws of the people surrounding me and their selfish malice with the struggle not to get influenced or get inspired by them. I poetically came to saw them as beautiful beings with hideous faults yet in reality they were faulty beings masked through a poetic glance that I purposely put in order to gain a poetic hope in this world.


My darkness as it followed me before hand was neither necessary nor unnecessary, I hated the joy that others felt when they trampled on others for selfish intents, possessing a great literary prowess I did not want to take part of their game. Moreover; I misunderstood women clearly and hated them for my incomprehension. This trip came to reset track on my social course externally. To see what I am capable of and what I can create. To understand the social hierarchy and how I stood at the top with my seven books. The trip proved to be a epiphany in display and a small needed ego boost.


I started my trip after some tarot readings that added to my confusion. My roommate was departing and for once I could feel her completely and her pain of leaving me. I felt guilty for not feeling her before. At the same time I understood her more than ever. Her departure from the house marked the release of my energy. I had space and time to find my higher self.


I went out for an aimless walk or a flannerie as I'd like to call it, the streets were half empty and heating. I went to the top of the mountain thinking that it already stroke in. I found my usual dealer sitting there still and lonely. I felt the immortality of my soul and the heights of being above a whole town. Soon after I manifested a sitting in a place with cheerful vibes, I found myself in a coffee-shop filled with words on the walls and each sentence spoke to me vividly. 


As I was preparing myself to depart thinking that I am still in psychedelia I made a stop at the toilet and it was there where I saw my ego in the mirror. An attractive version of Moi that was perfectly shaped in a setting most cleansed. Coming down I felt a boost of confidence and a remarkable aura that attracted the people in there. This marked the difference between the ego and the egolessness. Whereas the spiritualists argue that the ego's existence is futile; the rationalists preach for it. And as a mystic living in a western society I was stuck between the two. Moreover, I noticed that the populace outside was dead in her spirit. There were no interactions above the ones that were necessary; what they came to call civility was a mere form of individualism that keeps evolving with time and the outgrowing of social medias that made us loose touch with reality.


Finally, I spent the remaining hours of my trip in an introspection learning myself and identifying my fears. The answers were displayed orally as if I was speaking to myself; I found comfort in that and a discovery that wherefore I have always been a good adviser to people, I too was a good advisor to myself. Thankfully, the last hours were spent with friends who cherished this higher psychedelic self yet also I came to read them better and deeply. I have always been doomed of the ability to read people as a book; yet without selfish intent or evil malice I took the passivity to heal them rather than use them. But they always failed to notice and took this as an ego-boost.


My dilemma was solved unfortunately, I understood the selfishness of people and their semblance of perfection that they claimed. I saw their malice and fight for survival through themselves; Each claiming a throne that's inexistent and I chose to stay humble with my achievements. My misanthropy was rekindled and my self acknowledgement was extinguished yet again. 


Now I give the heavy weight of others from off my head

The pride of a streetborn artist is reset

With my own hands I take back my literary claims 

With my seven books I reclaim my throne 

Let none take for I will give accordingly 

In my universality I jump back again 

I am the manifestation of the cosmos manifested manly 

With this divinity I praise back myself

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