Addictions, Illness, Aliens

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I'm sure that the first two words in this title are going to piss some people off... well, fuck off! We don't want your skeptical asses 'round these parts anyway.

That said, I was never an addict, nor diagnosed mentally ill, until the events of last summer...

The medications keep me sane by blocking off the hideous gnosis of memory. I drink and smoke to bring back the phantoms of memory and gaze in awe. I believe in a terrible God.

I wasn't always like this. But now I have proof of things that cause me to question if every part of our culture is built on lies.

I have always been a normal kid, no family history of any mental illness or addictions. Happy, healthy. I came from a Catholic family but loved science and watched the Discovery channel on cable growing up. I also read a lot of books.

I never rebelled too much, but in college I became interested in shamanism and occultism.

I was very much an agnostic at the time. But I was also taking heavy psychedelics and trying to see how deep I could go.

Well, eventually, I reached my unspoken goal, I went further than anyone I had ever heard of. And I realized with horror why no one could ever speak of this realm...

It simply isn't possible!

It was a crystalline kaleidoscope of fantastic machinery with infernal logic. I tried to improve the song it sang. It got angry. See? Nonsense...

Repressed under too much trauma. I'm afraid I couldn't speak it even if I could remember it.

There are certain rules to its game.

Anyway, I've retreated behind the haze of bud and booze since. Otherwise I am too haunted to sleep.

There is only one thing I remember for sure: I ate a pound of shrooms and made a deal with an alien. Demon, djinn, fae, whatever. Pray you never see one.