Ok, so i was treated really bad in school. I know what the other kids did to me was fucked up but years of mistreatment alters your self-perception. I had never managed to shake the idea that i deserved what i got.

One time i did so many mushrooms that i just lay gibbering on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Wave after wave of dancing mandalas erupted from the bare drywall. This gave way to a million images that flashed one after another and seemed to change faster than the eye can possibly perceive; of course, i was not seeing with my eyes. It was such an incredible experience i later searched the Internet for a word to describe it (that word is phantasmagoria).

Among the images were recognizable glimpses of places i had been, toys that i had forgotten i had ever owned, scenes i had only witnessed in dreams…

The visions were composed in the way abstract paintings might be: occasionally symmetrical, always balanced, and delightful to behold. i am not embarrassed to admit that i cried, it was so beautiful. Like, i am choking up right now just remembering.

Here is my big realization: the visions did not come from the mushrooms! The mushrooms were just the key. The visions were me - my brain, displayed in gorgeous tableaux for my viewing pleasure.

I saw myself, and it was fucking beautiful.