Have you ever snorted a fat rail of ketamine, got a good buzz on some quality red wine (always dry, usually Malbec) and done some whippets, simultaneously?
First off, Chopin’s eclectic music compliments copious amounts of ketamine beautifully, but playlists for doing drugs are a whole separate topic which I won’t delve into right now.
It feels just like injecting a speed ball, but the effects don’t last as long and you don’t feel like a piece of shit for shooting up drugs.
Last night, at 4am, as I disassociated in my friend’s bedroom,
I pictured myself curled up in a little tiny ball,
legs tucked in, arms hugging the circumference of my body.
I’m in a beach, the sun is hiding behind a thick layer of clouds,
and as the waves hit my toes, my skin dissipates and I am reduced to a pile of bones.
I am so happy because I am no longer taking up so much space in this cluttered planet.
I think skeletons are beautiful and when I see my collar bone sticking out from the lining of my t-shirt I am reminded that I am human.
Disassociating is fun when you get to choose when it happens.
Dissociating is uncomfortable when it happens at a party in the middle of a conversation with a good looking stranger, or in the midst of doing my grocery shopping or my laundry.