That Was About Ten Hits of Acid

It was my first acid trip.

I was at a party being thrown by one of my college friends, Aree.

Skeet brought some LSD, among other delightful drugs.

This wasn’t cut onto tabs.
Nope.

There was a mutual friend who was chemistry major at UVA, and she hooked him up with pharmaceutical-grade, pure uncut LSD. Later I even got to help her make a batch and learn the process.

We used an eyedropper to place it on sugar cubes.

Except… I missed the part where it was supposed to be one drop per cube.

I pulled somewhere between 1 and 2 milliliters into the dropper—
And squeezed it all onto my sugar cube.

Down it went.
Dissolving on my tongue.

Gabby caught it, but she wasn’t fast enough to stop me.

She looked at me and said:

“That was about ten hits.
Buckle up, baby. You’re going for a ride.”

She was right.

It lasted a few blurry days.
I had no idea what was real and what wasn’t.

I could see music.
Sounds became colors.
Colors became shapes.
Shapes had tastes.

It was absolutely fantastic.

I remember absolutely losing myself to the music around me. I remember feeling like I could just move and flow and exist, there was no pain only color and sound.

I don’t quite know when the drugs finally wore off, or honestly if the every did sometimes, I just remember after about a week the days started to feel heavier. Thankfully that feeling didn’t last too long, and soon I was pretty much taking 5-7 hits of acid every weekend.