12/15/24

I can’t sleep. I can’t help but worry I’m ruining everything and everyone’s life around me. I ate some of that fake mushroom chocolate I got from Preston. It sucked. I felt the black cancer of my aura, the curse in my soul. The drug itself was nauseating and felt dirty, probably 4-aco-dmt. I feel cursed, my friends don’t realize it or see it but I know. I feel repulsive and hated by the universe. My OCD isn’t as bad as it was a month ago. There’s that at least. I have no clue what I’m doing. It’s nice to write this somewhere. Maybe when I’m dead I’ll know how much people love me. I definitely don’t love myself or understand myself or what I’m doing here. I have no plans for the future. I have cruel dreams that I don’t think will happen. If there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a coward. I’ll still live in hope. I feel this dark shroud over my soul, I felt it when I became my grandfather during my last heavy trip. Maybe I want to be hated and get murdered like them. Maybe that would be some semblance of order to the natural world in my head as opposed to the random chaos. I wish I wasn’t so fucked up.