DOSE: T+ 0:00	25 mg	oral	2C-B	(capsule)
T+ 5:30	repeated	insufflated	Ketamine	(powder / crystals)
T+ 10:00		oral	Pharms - Diazepam

On the afternoon of 29th September, after what had been a badly vodka-sodden week, I did something that only the most incorrigible of degenerates would have dreamt of doing in the circumstances. I took some 2C-B. For much of the rest of the day I lay in my beautifully sunlit room, suspended in kind of a reverie.

Eventually I returned to sobriety with a bump, and after much deliberation departed it again with another, and another, and another -- of ketamine. It was one or two o'clock in the morning by the time I got to sleep. I'd done about 300 to 400 milligrams in all, having set out to do only a third of that amount, but my tolerance is such now that I didn't get anywhere near the k-hole. I did, however, listen to Carbon Based Lifeforms and immerse myself in some beautiful videos of nature and the cosmos. Whenever I do this with ket I feel like I'm in something resembling Sick Boy's flat in T2, with its seemingly circumambient technicolour TV.

I went on to take a little bit of diazepam to help ease me into sleep, but I couldn't switch my thoughts off. I felt able to examine my life from a distance and with a scythe-like mental acuity, but I couldn't quite escape the fundamental uneasiness I feel in my own skin. My experiences with ket seem invariably to end up bringing me into closer contact with that uneasiness, and yet before too long my desire to do the drug again returns anew. At any rate, below is the trip report I wrote whilst under the influence.

15:22: It's a sunny Saturday afternoon, and here in my room I've just dropped a capsule containing 25 milligrams of 2C-B. I'm listening to Bicep's "Satisfy".

My week has been a messy one, drenched in drink. I woke up this morning and found that I was lightly grazed by the slightest of hangovers. I went AWOL from work yesterday afternoon, got pretty drunk and spent most of my evening in a state of high anxiety. I must conquer this habit.

15:28: My decision to take a psychedelic drug in the circumstances could be viewed as questionable at the very least. But 2C-B never forces me to introspect darkly; it never makes me feel uncomfortable or bad; and crucially there's never any real comedown from it.

I haven't eaten for a good 18 hours and need to kill some time before dinner. 2C-B gives me a relatively safe and pleasurable way of doing so.

15:45: I feel heavy-headed and my eyes heavy-lidded.

16:27: I spent what seemed like eternity in a very languid state, half-asleep listening to music. It was not unpleasant. I've sat up now and am feeling the body load. I'm watching a documentary on humpback whales as visuals try hard to assert themselves. My body temperature has risen, or so it seems. I've had a few thoughts that would be classed as 'negative' in sobriety -- for example about how imprisoned I feel -- but under the influence of 2C-B these seem to float past like water under a bridge.

16:32: I do feel woozy, different, slightly on-edge. My legs are tingling; my stomach churns. I wish I had someone to do this with!

16:48: I feel good, and I'm enjoying the subtlety of these visuals. 'Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget. . . '

16:54: I'm watching my floor-to-ceiling blinds, sun-inflected, blow gently in the breeze. There's a sort of orgasm raging in the lower half of my body. Keats's odes -- they're quite something, aren't they?

16:58: Long-forgotten or rather vaguely remembered phrases return to me, carried on Ralph Richardson's voice.

17:04: I'm returned to the 'dales of Arcady'!

17:07: I broke my fast with a fragrant and overripe banana. Eating it was a deeply sensuous experience.

17:17: I feel really fucking good.

17:27: "I Wanna Roll With You". Music like this was made for 2C-B. The colours in my room are gorgeous but in a muted way. There is a feeling of great opulence here. I could easily fall asleep.

17:32: I've got to beat the booze. Even in this blissed-out state I recognise that. I drink out of self-hatred, to escape from myself. I owe it to my parents not to succumb to this disease, which has claimed the lives of family members. My room is bathed in a gorgeous golden light.

17:41: I guess it's the loneliness that hurts the most. Burial's "Homeless" now.

17:53: I still feel physically good. My room is a shell of light. The cool wood of this headboard feels good against my back.

18:00: It's time to try to get clean.

18:43: This is technicolour sadness. Everything -- this room, the view, the milky blue sky -- looks picture-perfect but inside I'm fucking dying. I want to go home, to Mum and Dad, but I know that if I get off this treadmill now I'm never getting on again. I cried. My aloneness is such and so profound that I may as well be some fossilised insect, encased for ever in amber. What can you do? I brushed my teeth and put on a clean pair of boxers.

18:50: I will beat the booze. It's been corroding my moral fibre for too many years now. I'm shaking a bit as I type. I feel fragile -- voided, humbled, but not quite purified.

19:58: Am I back to baseline? Probably not, although I guess I'm getting there. About an hour ago I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I was slightly startled to see that N was on the sofa watching television. As the kettle boiled we had a painfully disjointed conversation, during which I could feel myself giving off torrents of negative energy. I told N about my Friday afternoon. To what end, I don't know. It must be clear to her that I'm not well.

After returning to my room, cup of tea in hand, I got into bed and cried. I seriously debated doing a bump or two of ket, but scarcely 10 days have passed since the stuff last went up my nose, so I think I'll conserve my supply.

I'm listening to Piano and a Microphone 1983, and it's honestly fucking amazing. A recommended it to me yesterday morning. If I get through tonight without taking another substance, then the credit is A's and Prince's.

21:20: All of a sudden I feel very decadent. Night has fallen, my room is dimly lit and I'm listening to "17 Days" on repeat. It's simply mesmeric. About half an hour ago I started doing little bumps of ket. I haven't weighed out enough to get me to the k-hole -- I don't particularly want to go there tonight -- but I should be feeling at least a bit wavy soon.

I woke up this morning to discover that I didn't feel all that bad, either physically or mentally. However my sense of shame at how I've been carrying myself of late is very much present at the back of my mind.

[Reported Dose: 25mg 2C-B, 300-400mg ketamine -- 2C-B, ketamine, diazepam]

Exp Year: 2023	ExpID: 117140
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 25
Published: Sep 5, 2023	Views: 194
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2C-B (52), Ketamine (31) : Addiction & Habituation (10), Combinations (3), Alone (16)