Quote Originally Posted by a500lbgorilla
im really interested in acid dropping trip reports.

someone atleast make on up, i demand storytime.
The first time I did acid, I kept several sheets of paper (printer paper, notebook paper, and a notepad) and two pens on me. I filled up 6 pages front and back. Some of it was sketches, some of it was words, and it was all in patterns. When I was writing I had no idea what I was writing; my conscious mind was separate from that which was doing the writing. The next day, I looked it over and some of the stuff I wrote was pretty interesting. I still have those papers today. Below are some of my favorite things I wrote that day. They are all transcribed verbatim.

I am not who I thought I was. But I like the real me too.
This room is a good place to be.
This is a happy wall. But why isn't it smiling?
This is a white piece of printer paper. Why?
A circus is where what happens.
I want to stay, but it is pulling me away.
I didn't think it was possible, but it just occurred to me that what I am feeling right now is boredom. But I am not bored at all. I am simply feeling boredom.
This is just another place to be. One of at least two. It has its advantages and disadvantages. I have to weigh them all out and decide which place I want to be.
Every time I fall closer into reality, it jolts me. It's a good thing, sort of.
You have to try to bring yourself back into reality. The faster you try, the faster you get there.
I keep on starting to reflect on this trip, and what it was like. And then I realize that I am still tripping. I'm certain I have been here for days, and may be for days longer.
I feel like this is never going to end. The only way to test this hypothesis is to just wait forever, then see. So now I just have to figure out how to wait forever, and then get back here when I am done.
Until now, I never knew I could experience the world for the first time several times in one night.
I am living more than my share of life. Who am I taking it away from?
Sleep is an interesting thing to ponder, because sleep doesn't make any sense. Sleep is foreign. The idea of sleeping is foreign. Sleep doesn't even begin to make sense. This is incredible.
Words are really bothering me right now, because I can't express to this notepad what I want to. Words are such an insufficient means of communication.
The most disturbing parts are the parts where I am most in touch with reality.
The drugs get you here. And here is good. The only bad parts are the getting here and the going away from here.
Associating with human-related things is so irrelevant. I am in alien spirit land. It is amazing. I want to live here forever.
People are awesome things to be.
Sometimes I want it to last forever. Sometimes I want it to end right now. But then I realize that time is irrelevant. Consciousness is fluid.
For a moment I thought that I forgot what I was doing. But it occurs to me that I never really knew. And I mean "never" in the longest sense of the word.
I'm toying with the idea that things don't matter. Nothing really matters. It's a warm idea. It physically feels warm, and I can physically play with it.
I was picked up off this world and shown another place. I was torn to bits and my component parts thrown into a blender. Then the whole things was thrown back down to reality. And now I'm trying to put myself back together and understand reality again, but I don't know why. I don't remember why I want to.