Salvia is not for everyone
But it is for me.

Salvia is not for eveyone. I personally plan to purchase as much as possible and let it consume my mind until I am spiritually revealed the most acceptable angle of reality. The third time I smoked it was my best experience. Multiple huge hits from a glass shotgun pipe. We passed the pipe around and took large hits shadowed by previous experience-induced terror. I don't remember much from this point on. I remember there was a time when I was laughing alot, and shortly after things went downhill/uphill in an evenly ambiguous apocolypse. I remember having that familar pulsating feeling of a comforting existance revealing to me that everything was merely a fake entity entirely there to trick me into thinking I existed. My four friends were all fake, and their low tuned out voices where just useless attempts at fooling me into believing that I was not the only thing that existed. I was convinced to ignore everything the figures had to offer. I was so terrified that I was the only thing that existed. I had to stand motionless for a bit and intake everything. It all felt so wicked, and it felt like it was never going to go away. I remembered the entire time that I had smoked salvia, but it was so intense that I believed it had triggered some mental state in me, rather than simply get me fucking high as fuck. I started to consider how I was going to handle the rest of my life knowing what I knew. As terrifying as everything was, I felt great. I decided that I should walk somewhere and explore. I soon found out I was too disorriented. I don't even remember much after this. The entire trip that feeling of comfort/dictatorship would ease in on me and give me such a familiar feeling that would soon be torn away. At the time I would understand it completely, but as it disappeared, I would only remain with the memory of what complete understandment felt like; to knowledge I couldn't retain. This may be similar to the feeling of a presence telling people what to do. I hear many people talk about this type of feeling. I also remember at one point feeling like my very own body was the source of all the light I could see, which was cast upon a cell trapping me in it's two-dimensional world. I felt like I was stuck on the end of a stick, or being held in the hands of lady salvia, out in a manor intended to shut up and view everything that my own generation of light was creating. I looked down at the pipe in my hand and the holes from the bowl and mouth piece seemed like burn holes moving around on the two-dimentional image I was forced to stare at. I don't remember much, like I said before. Maybe tomorrow it will make more sense.

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