Minichan

Ok so I went overboard and I seem to have gone though 1000mg's of MDPV in the last week in a non-stop binge. Now the crash, well this is not a crash, this is brain damage. I mean, boy it sure would be nice if there were some coming back from this. I don't even know where to begin but this shit may just be worse than meth. Everything is yellow and bright and too loud, I feel like I am pretty much disconnected from reality and I can't function on the same cognitive levels as I did before, like I feel retarded and almost in some endless psychosis. I have gotten plenty of sleep but it doesn't matter, it's filled with the most sadistic nightmares I ever seen, and now I am scared of everything, shaking, mind is lost, dick doesn't work, brain is warped.

Well my psychaitrist scripted me out a ton of shit, as follows:
seroqwel
Lamictal
Klonopin
propranolol XR

And of course even all that shit plus my normal anti-depressants are not helping. I'm pretty much done. Cashed in. Brain fried and damaged for good this time. The last 3 days have been like this. Well if you have any suggestions to restore my brains cognitive abilities let me know. Otherwise I don't need to hear any judgmental voices of condescension about how I'm an idiot who took too much, yeah, no kidding. No fucking kidding.

Ok well it was probably those sweet black hookers that made me overdo it. Jeeze that kind of rough hard sex on PV was like I was dropped off in titty heavenland I must say, I mean ecstasy like nothing else I can think of and I think those poor hookers had never seen anything like PV or me before even with crack. I mean i've hit hookers on crack before and with rocks you get a better blast of pleasure/euphoria but always run out quick, and you're always runnin around like an idiot scratching at the floors for little chips, and even between hard crack hits you're comin down, but on the peev it's like a nonstop supercrack rollercoaster that keeps rising and rising and rising, I can feel tightness on my chest like the devil and all you can do is go WITH the rolling speed rush, if you dare for one second to try to go against it, holy shit thats when you will panic and have all sorts of bad bad reactions including the "terror tremors" which I will explain in greater detail below.

It's strange with speed when you're too wasted and speeding it seems like you should slow down when in reality you should actually speed up... well I mean at least that gets you though 10 minutes, and chains the link to become a binge... all you have to do is feed the fires once every 15 minutes and by the time you have been like this for around 6 to 8 hours straight, you get this intense primal urge awakened at the very basic instinctual levels in the hippo-campus to fuck anything that moves, or anything with heat and hole. I went out into public like this and it was literally dangerous, I was staring down every bitch that looked half decent to me with the full intention of taking the whore into the bathroom and tearing it up right there with no protection and no effective judgment whatsoever.

Oh yeah, judgment... gooood old judgment my friend. Well, after even a 8-hour binge your judgment has morphed into impulse, pure out-of-fuckin-control impulse. And it feels like these impulses are also coming from very primitive, raw, survivalist parts of the brain that lack any logic, and are comprised of different proportions of self-preservation, pleasure, lust, rage, and hate. Again, all the old primitive raw emotions. I think I was fucking for 48 hours straight or darn near it. The only reason I stopped was because the prick Indian who owned the crack motel came barging right in the front fuckin door, just unlocked all our shit and mozied right on in yelling at us for swindling him out of a half hour or something I could not believe it. I was very messed up from that interruption.

At one point I had this hot black hooker with amazing great fat natural tits with nice brown hotcake nips leading me around on a crack rock goose chase and as she was trying to scam my ass, dumb bitch. Man she had really worked on this scam too and refined the shit out of it like a Japanese samurai blade, like an amazing con from start to finish i coulda sword she believed every word of it, this chubby black little hooker should have been an actress, the way I finally caught her before she made off with like, every-damn-thing of mine including my fuckin car was she said she was in room 19, kept sayin it, and she was actually making room to room calls from one of her co-conspirators rooms within this crack motel, so I just totally believed she was in room 19, and she made up this long story about how her sister and her kids also lived in room 19, always talkin bout her room 19 room 19, and all this other shit she knew about in the motel, faked that she knew the people there, anyway right when she was in the middle of pulling the final heist on my speed-freaking messed up sorry lily-white ass, I had this intuition..duh yeah Soap, ya think?, so I dialed zero on the 1970's greasy bedbug covered plastic phone and asked the operator guy "what is the outside number to call room 19 please sir?" cuz I was gonna try hittin this bitch up on my cell cuz she was taking too long and my hard speed dick was goin to waste again for the 3rd time on this one, and he's like "there is no room 19!".

BLACK FUCKING TRASHGOBBLIN! came instantly to my speed-damaged impulse-mind. My sweat and skin now smelling like pure chemical peevee and it was Horrible, it seeped into everything and people could smell it from afar, even filled the tiny skank-ass hotel fuck room, made it smell even worse than the original fat ugly sex and torn hepatitis asshole smell. So I was instantly gonna go kick this bitch right in the ass into an oncoming train, I was ready to murda this bitch. Then I realized what would happen to a white man doing that in a jungle of black ghetto folk. Yeah, I would be torn to shreds and get Reginald Deny'd. Raincheck.

Man, I shoulda known something was up cuz evry time i pulled out my rock-hard speed penis she would find ways out of pleasuring me. Like she would try to change the subject or whatever and once I was like "yo get up on this bed nex to me and smoke those wack ass rocks" and she was like "ummm, nah I dunno...etc etc." garbage, I shoulda known it right there. You are a professional whore! Right! WTF is wrong with your sorry ass you're more worthless than a drug dealer with no drugs, but she was hot enough that i didn't wanna kick her loose yet and my hornbrain was on pure impulse control and god dayyyyyum those teets looked sweet. In the end, best I got outta that bitch was her takin her fat titties out and even then she was acting like she was ashamed when i grabbed on those heavy knockers and was like "wow, these are natural!(as I was squeezing these sweet melons) these are amazing!". I just can't believe I let that whore drag me along for the whole day. It was funny too cuz here I am lit like a lightning rod on The Peev and she's smoking the crack pipe, i took a good deep hit and it was nothing compared to the PV potency. I was like "here smoke some of this PV baby, it'll make you real horny", then she was like "nahhh I don't do nothin like dat" Excuuuuuuse me? a crack rock strawberyy like you has standards??? I shoulda known it was a dead drop right there and then. CLEARLY my mind was toast and this bitch was taking advantage of it. By the time I caught her sorry brown ass, she had my cell phone, wallet, bank cards, 4 bottles of pills(that i really really would have been hurting without), hard drugs, 3 tall 22-ounce cans of Molson Ice(The Molson Ice and Inderal is a precursor required to get really spun on The Peev, if you don't take those you will shit your pants and fall right off the rollercoaster and possibly end your binge and retain brain cognition, god forbid) booze in the form of 1 unopened pint of Canadian Whiskey, car keys(almost the whole car and everything else in it) including vehicle registration and plates. These downtown hookers man, i highky recommend battening everything of value down in your car trunk if you don't want these bitches stealing it, they are god damn MASTERS of the slight-of-hand. And another thing, holy lord, once you are on to their scam, these bitches turn on you like a pit-viper and then you got pimps pounding on your hotel door and believe me these downtown dirty pimps don't play around ever, they are always right at your throat and you never get a word in edgewise. These guys got a street rep to uphold after all, and best believe they will make an example of the white man any chance they get, the white man is easy pickins in those parts, who's going to protect you down there? These are the ghetto pimps of legend that will put a cigar out on your face to add to the horrid insanity and psychosis you are already embroiled in. Life is a constant battle in the ghetto, constant fight for survival down there. If you are off your guard for one second the lions are already on you. Like, I don't even remember what happened with one of the hooks but it was somethng I did or said, probably both and who knows I mighta kinda sorta kept her prisoner in my depraved speed-fueled lust-den too long. Whatever it was, she musta told her pimp cuz when I dropped her off I saw this guy coming out of my left perif and I knew the vibe was wrong. Then I just barely caught that this guy was hiding some sort of razor box cutter thing in his hand, like in the palm of his hand but hiding it, he was coming up to the window but he saw that I was staring directly at the cutter and his grip loosened because he knew he wasn't gonna get the drop on me with it, whatever the drop was. Probably gonna take my car or whatever. Or maybe give me a prison smile, I was screeching backwards with the windows now up as he was slinging obscenities about white boy this and that and don't ever come back or bla bla gonna kill ya. Funny thing is they mean it down there.

Might have been the most insane weekend of my life.

One of the strangest hallucinations I kept having when I was shackled in the dark hotel room was that there were people totally watching me and talking (with accompanying clearly audible sentences) about me through the air conditioning unit, like I thought they could somehow see in through it and I'll be damned if I didn't wholeheartedly believe they were watching and commenting on my every move. I studied and studied that thing like a true American skitzo until I felt ill because I could STILL HEAR THEM BACK THERE. At many points I decided to turn the tables on the sickos and I pulled out my cock and balls and started jacking it in their direction while saying "here, how ya like it? uh huh, not so loud now aye bitch-ass niggas! It's gettin kinda quiet now, what's seems to be the matter".

The bathroom was strage beyond belief, I could hear all sorts of noises like people breaking in and then the sound of like rats or something scurrying through the walls and ceiling and every single time as soon as I got near to the bathroom all the sounds would disappear, so in my paranoid skitzo delusional mind I believed it was all connected somehow; the people looking in through the air conditioner, the rats, the voices coming from behind what I thought was a 2-way glass mirror, they were all connected by some truly truly dark and twisted minds to break me. I'd been through worse psychosis than this so it really didn't bother me, in that state of speed-sick mind, the truly twisted and bizarre becomes the norm. For example a strange "shadow-man" totally horrifying under normal circumstances becomes just another freak in the most freaked out world you can imagine. Another example is hallucinations of people turning up in the room that should not be there were totally believable in every respect, their movement, shading, and auditory accompanyments, yet after a while I just said to myself, ya know what, if some freak is going to just show up in my hotel room unanounced, he just better be prepared for what he might see. I had to rationalize these "extra people" and "shadow people" so I could move on to more important things, name The Peev and the hookers.

On top of that I became fully convinced that the bathroom had a 2-way mirror and I could literally hear quite clear conversations they were having back there about how to defraud me. So I decided to turn the tables on those bastards and I turned off all the lights and put the sheets up on the window so it was near pitch black, at that point I could finally see them back there in silhouettes. They got really freaked out that I discovered their little devil's playpen of sadism and they clearly reacted when I pumped my fist at them back there, they moved around and they acted scared, and these fucking weirdos from beyond had been watching me for hours and hours on end, I mean, what kind of real true psychos could these freaks be? I became convinced that it was speed that twisted their minds and made them enjoy this kind of thing. I got so enraged that the rage spiked in my mind and I hit the left half of the mirror real hard with a closed outer fist, which broke it, then i peeled it up to see these sick sick demeted souls and i was ready to rip their sick heads off too, I didn't care I was so hyped out of my mind(I mean the thought of exactly what kind of brain damaged sicko would just watch somebody play with themself for hours on end was such a god-awful evil vibe that it colored the rest of the trip with a sick blackness) amazingly, there were no freaks back there at all, there was just a wall and it was yet another delusion of great power, had me firmly in it's grip.

I can't tell you how many times people were trying to break in and I could hear them talking about me. It was dozens. Also, every time I would get up to go to the bathroom, I would stare at the door knob and get frozen with a dimly lit panic, I was sure that this door was going to come bursting open with wood shards spraying all over the room. A couple times I actually was covering my eyes in case the wood shards would hit me in the face I didn't want ot get it in the eyes and go blind and be uinable to defend myself against whatever horror was closing in. Feds, SWAT, Cops, Drug Dealers, Pimps, Killers, you name it. I also can't tell you how many times I peered out of the tiny tears or holes in the cheap plastic and vinyl curtains, totally sure I was going to catch the guys trying to steal my car. There were cameras and bugs everywhere. I got bad at one point where I was literally flinching and freaking every single time I heard a thud or a door slam or whatever it was, I was sure it was an intruder of some kind with evil intentions.

There was a time when I started tasting blood pouring into my mouth from one direction, and I kept tasting this blood flow all day. Well it was totally imagined, and I was totally convinced that a bed bug had embedded itself in my upper nasal palate...uh yeah Soap, that's it.... Then later I wiped my face with a towel and there was blood all over the towel which was horrifying enough so I looked up at the room, and shit, the walls were covered in splattered blood and for a split second my mind collapsed into a black hole of sorrow because I thought I was murdered by asshole scarface-type thugs with chainsaws to make a point about the PV in their hood and I could not believe those chumps got the jump on me, and I was humiliated to die like that. Boom. snap. back to reality all in 2 seconds. That was the final wave of paranoid schizophrenic psychosis that i remember before that asshole motel owner unlocked the door again all on his own without even knocking and although he was a fucking nasty little prick with a big mouth that needed to get kicked in, he unwittingly let the sunshine into that room that was a pit of derangement and sickness. I hadn't emerged from the room for like 24 hours and I didn't even know it was daytime, the world inside that room was slowly slipping into true bloody fucking madness I'm sitting there with my pants off and my dong hanging out like a mental patient on too much haldol.

At least 3 or 4 occasions I heard a strange robotic "rainbow" sound coming from different locations withing the walls, which had to be some sort of bugging devices, I mean what the hell else could it be??? But I mean that didn't bother me too much since I was already under constant observation and videotaping to be laughed at by sicko's who buy these underground tapes of sad lost souls in ghetto motels, again, evil, just so evil, and why was I even still here anyway? The draw of the Peev was actually overriding all these fears and paranoia's and delusions. In fact the draw of the Peev was overiding my need for food and water and security as well. It overwrote just about all of my normal human requirements and severely perverted rational thought and judgment. I honestly could have been sitting in sludge in the bottom of a dark sewer covered in roaches and bacteria and if I had the peev, a hooker, and a TV with a constant flow of porn, I would be totally cool with that.

Evil was an omnipresent foe in that tiny room of perpetual mania. My God. Glad I made it out, although not entirely in one piece. I feel like I left a good piece of my sanity back there. The hookers and the pimps took some, the tweakers and geekers real or imagined took some, The rain that never was took some, The strange and frightening sounds of leaves blowing against the cheap thin door that I thought were secret pimp messages took some, the delusions that the hookers had put up signs on my door about my peevee habits took some, The paper messages passed under my door that I thought were death threats and became mortally terrified of took a chunk, and the ghosts that knocked on the walls took some. Every one of those phantoms took a chunk of it, may it rest in peace. I'll never be the same again.

MDPV - Where the fun lives...

I thought I had seen the worst life could dish out. I thought I could control this shit. I thought I could control myself. My thoughts, as always, betray me...

This one is going to seem like total bullshit, and honestly I wish it was. I still can not believe what happened this time.

I had a brainstorm called Fuck It, I Wanna Get High. And the shadows delivered a 4-gram package. Since, 1 gram would just never be enough. It only took 36 hours before I was about a gram and a half deep into that demonic powder and the darkest demons on this earth were on my back.

I spent about 2 hours driving in circles like a total maniac trying to dodge these cars that had tinted windows and guys in all dark clothes. I was entirely convinced a shadow agency had finally caught up to me for all the dark deeds I had committed over the years. It could be anything or anyone after all. It could be one of drug dealers i ripped off, it could be a regular people i ripped off, it could be some pimps lookin to even the score, it could be the that dealer i stabbed in the hand when he punched me in the face and tried to take the keys outta my car, it could be internet police who sold me some PV and then followed me around all day trying to see if I would sell it, could be a friend of mine ratted me out to reduce a sentence, could be somebody I ratted out coming back for a vengeance burn. Shit man. Could be you, whoever it was, they were evil, and they had my number.

I was caught up in a frenzy of my own fear. I turned off my phone cuz they were tracking my position.

Now at this point I'm gunning it to mom and pops house. The parents live at the end of a dead end street on a culdesac and they live on several heavily wooded and hilly acres and a small valley and river running through it.

I busted right on in the front door shouting about turn off the lights! My life's in danger! At this point I heard the sound of footsteps on the roof. I was seeing weird people running through the house. My parents were 100% freaked out but did not call the cops. They got me calmed down a little bit and then as I was sitting there I got the evil feeling that my parents were in on some shit to bring me down. I was convinced my parents got paid off and it was only a matter of minutes before death was upon me. I was going to get a bullet in the brain... here it comes... Fuck This! I ran and ducked and dodged and rolled into my dads den to get the rifle (My dad has a bolt action scoped 700) I had my hands on it and my parents ran the fuck outta the house and drove off. Meanwhile I turned off all the lights and peered out the corner of a window into the streets in the front of the house. My heart was pumping burning blood through my veins, I was sweating buckets, my pupils were black as pitch. I was a savage animal and I was going to fuckin survive. I was't goin out like a sucka.

My parents were gone too damn long... and now is when fucked up went right to nightmare. I heard a rumbling sound coming the street. A blacked out snow plow pushed up a big embankment of snow all across the road so I wouldn't be able to drive my outta this. At this point I know the cops are involved. At the same time I hear the sound of a helicopter above me and it's hovering low with a spotlight all over the house. Then the cops are on the loudspeakers telling me to come out and lie down, face down in the spotlight. They assure me I am surrounded and they keep repeating it. I'm not coming out. No fuckin way. These guys are gonna waste me and spray me with bullets if I step into that light. This whole thing's a setup. It's a death trap. Bullet in my brain. I'm not goin out like that. Next on the loudspeaker is that "no one is going to get hurt, if I lay down my weapon and come out with my hands up". No way. These guys are liars, they want me dead.

An hour goes by and then I hear rumbling by the front of the house and here comes the snow plow again right up to the driveway with like 4 swat guys in black running in low behind it, using the snow plow as cover from my sniper rounds.

Right now I know I'm dead. For sure. maybe 5 minutes till they breach every door and I breath my last breath on this horrible earth. They'll read about me in the papers - how a troubled gulf war veteran went crazy on amphetamines and barricaded himself in his parents home and killed 2 police before taking his own life. My kids would be fucked up and in therapy forever trying to get over this one.

I dove into the bathroom and closed and locked the door. I heard the sound of the front door breaking in and I knew it was only seconds until the bathroom door gets smashed in and I get bullets in my brain but I'm not goin out like that. I cocked back the bolt on the 770 and chambered a round - sweat gushing out of every pore stinking like PV...my muscles tight like steel... for a second I was happy, I might get one good round off before I die...

Then something unexpected happened... they used a fiber optic scope to peek under the door, it had a little light at the end so they could see what I was up to in there before they busted in. I was like "No Way" and I stood up and kicked the door several times until it cracked the wooden frame and the door broke open, now accepting my death, accepting the bullets into my brain, accepting that this world and my life and struggles, were over now, about to plunge deep into the mystery of the afterlife...

BOOM!

To my confusion, there were no cops to be seen. There was nothing. Only the darkened quiet house.

I still didn't believe it. But I knew that I was fuckin done with this bad dream. I knew that if these were cops, they couldn't kill an unarmed man so I tossed the rifle down and went outside into the bitter cold. I sat down in the driveway. I still did not believe this. I laid down on my stomach and yelled out "I surrender".

I laid there for like 10 minutes. Nothing. I stood up and looked to where the snow plow was and there was nothing. There was no snow piled up in the road. It was quiet and nothing was happening. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Yes. Seriously. It was all imagined.

Worst one yet. Beyond psychosis. Beyond hallucination. The things I saw were both entirely realistic, 3-dimensional, tactile, and had loud audio accompaniments. I mean, I don't think skitzofrenics ever even get that bad.

So like, wow. a took a lotta PV. For a while I was certain this batch had to be cut with 2c-i or 2c-e or something because I was rocketed into a conscious world that was teeming with my very unconscious fears incarnate.

So what now? I'm gonna quit this shit or somebody's gonna die. Maybe me, maybe my mom, maybe you.

It's true, I should be dead several times over, but I am - as far as I can tell - quite alive. I have a pile of notebooks here that I have filled over the last several years, mainly during my "down time" at Marion correctional institution. One notebook contains the chronicle of my last high quality bender. In this one I completely smashed the inside of a motel room. I even broke the windows and stepped on the glass at some point. I overturned the bed and the dresser and pulled the light fixtures right out of the walls complete with arcing electricity and smoke. You see, there were people back there, behind the walls, and this trashed out bitch was howling for my blood callin me a homo. Tellin her boyfriend to shoot me in the fuckin face. I was sure those fucks next door we're drilling through the wall in which to blast a hole in the precious face of your humble narrator. You think im'a go out like that? So I did what any sane American would do and I barricaded myself in, and then things got bad. By the time the police broke the door down I was in a really bad way my friends. Really bad indeed. Whoever it was in that room was not human at all.

At the hospital I knew there was a conspiracy going on with the staff. They'd fuckin had it with me. So before they could inject me with poison I bolted and ran for my very life I did. I ran down the ER with this orderly and 2 cops in hot pursuit and encountered a door with 2 large glass windows on each half of it. I jumped clean through the bottom window at high speed, plate glass and all. Cut my face up real nice in the process and landed right on top of the glass - luckily the glass broke into cubes but it still cut my leg when the orderly and police jumped on top of me and pinned me down in it. The last thing I remember is grinding my fingernail into this cops wrist with all the strength I could muster, fighting for my life.

I woke up in restraints with doctors checking to see if my eyes had been cut. A chunk of my nose had been gouged out by the glass and was now missing in action, which I still have a scar from today.

Life goes on. I live another day. I do another stint. I say hello.