annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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I’m hoping that remembering all these druggy stories and writing them down will clear them out of my head, leaving room for something a bit more interesting. In the meantime…
1. I feel I already wrote about the time I took acid, intending to have completed my bus journey and arrived wherever I was going by the time I came up. But I missed the bus, so sat on the pavement leaning against the bus stop, gradually came up and found myself so enthralled by the beauty of the loose stones on the road that I waved the next bus on when it turned up and just sat at the bus stop for about five hours then went home. Sigh.
2. Again, coming up before I met up with whoever, on the beach this time, spotted the parents (Dad and Stepmother), felt full of love for them, so joined them. Again, became enthralled with the beauty of each individual pebble, kept picking them up and saying, “Wow! Look at this!” I knew I was repeating myself but honestly, you’ve never seen anything like the astonishing beauty of those pebbles. I think my sister came and dragged me away after a while.
3. On the forest, tripping, spotted an ant on my leg, panicked, went home, ran a bath and sat in it for hours, mostly underwater, breathing through a straw.
4. Bunch of us in the room I rented, dropped some acid, the others wanted to be somewhere bigger – my room was very small, to say nothing of dirty, messy and probably smelly – so they decided to go somewhere else but it started to rain and I couldn’t be arsed so stayed behind. No sooner had their voices faded away than all the objects that figured in the posters of Salvador Dali’s art that decorated my walls became three dimensional and started dive-bombing me – weird-shaped clocks, his head on a long neck, that egg and those stone fingers. I was terrified for a moment then thought, ‘Fuck this,’ got into bed, fell asleep at once and what seemed immediately afterwards I woke up, it was daylight and I was late for work. I felt proud of my ability to show that bad trip who was boss.
5. Being in that same room on a different occasion, with some pals and had a phone call from a woman we knew, Siobhan, from Oxford where she was living, talking in a little girl voice, saying, “I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t my fault. Don’t let them hurt me!” We could hear shouting in the background – the phone kept getting passed around – then sirens, then ‘That’s her!’ then ‘You’re coming with us, miss!’ and the phone went dead. Fuck. We later found out she’d taken a lot of acid, had stabbed her elderly aunt with a pair of nail scissors, then set fire to the house. Her aunt wasn’t badly hurt, though her leg ad been punctured and she was very shaken, not least because the fire Siobhan had set did take and spread, causing considerable damage although everyone got outside very promptly. Siobhan was sectioned, was rumoured to have never come down off the acid and never lived out in the world again, but stayed inside a secure psychiatric hospital until I lost track of everyone who knew her.

12:03 a.m. - 26.01.24

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