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psychedelics and suicide

I am going to be honest here, I have taken psychedelics many times and it can be pretty common for the 'spirits' or 'neighbours' (entities that appear conscious and transcendental) can arise and tell you audibly or telepathically to 'kill yourself' to 'commit suicide' to 'just go and die already'. The intent here is often confusing, or I should say, at least for me, was confusing. Ever seen the KYS meme? I've seen 'devout' 'straight-edge' Christians use this meme and think it's funny. And it is kind of similar here. The spirits do not have the same way of distinguishing between 'literal' and 'figurative'. Similarly, they do not have the same way of distinguishing between 'good' and 'bad'. To them, that which happens is all good. To them, a statement is intended to represent truth. So when they tell you to kill yourself (which they likely will if you trip enough times in enough ways) they mean it like the meme, they mean it like "kill the parts of yourself that you do not like" or "change the areas of yourself that do not benefit the greater whole", they mean it like "kill your ego" and "learn to take a joke, don't always be so serious." The first 100 or so times it happened I was depressed and considering the following quote by Albert Camus: "There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. All the rest -- whether or not the world has three dimensions, whether the mind has nine or twelve categories -- comes afterward. These are games; one must first answer." All it took was one more time for them to say it and, perhaps by mere chance, at the same time everyone around me who were in a different state-of-mind all started laughing. That was when I realised I had been misinterpreting the situation entirely. I should have been laughing too. The day it happened I relaxed immensely. My housemate told me that morning that he had a dream about me last night, that my room was immaculate and that I was moving out, that I had "got my shit together" and was off to do something important. That was when I realised that someone else's dreams can speak to me profoundly. I knew that dream could be taken as a reference to my newfound insight. Since then, the spirits have told me to kill myself and immediately I telepathically respond "haha, go fuck yourself" or "yea, I'm working on it, give me a break" or "got anything interesting to say?" These spirits, although they appear to transcend physicality, are often childish and ridiculous. They are not to always be taken seriously or respected as higher beings. Treat them like you would yourself, a negligible singular amongst the near-countless many. I had a friend kill themselves whilst on shrooms. He did a backflip off of a bridge after walking for 45 minutes to get there. He clearly had enough time to think about what he was doing, it makes no sense to consider it a once-off rash drug-induced thought. But the kid was a reckless teenager going through depression who would vandalise regularly and skip class even more. Perhaps it was a misinterpretation of the spirits telling him to do it. Perhaps it was a misinterpretation of this world as a whole. A friend told me that he was probably really just thinking "eh, fuck this", mostly in regards to corporate slavery. And, of course, all the squares think it was the shrooms. I once did the same walk a few years later, a kind of unplanned pilgrimage, and it stuck out to me that the only other road along the way is a short 'lane' that shared his name and went under a bridge just the same. When I got to the spot he flipped from I looked over the railing and there was a ship passing through underneath and when ships go through the bridge is closed from traffic so I was gifted by the universe a moment alone with Peter Pan, the lost boy. That day, I changed my name to reflect his, a name that I had asked my parents to call me when I was 4, 12 years before meeting Peter Pan. My parents said I could when I'm older, so instead I named a plush toy with it. I lost that toy and named the next one the same. I lost that toy also and named the next one the same. Around the time of Peter Pan's death, I found all three toys. The night before I did the pilgrimage, I was staying at a friends house on one side of the river, I lived on the other side. I had bogged my car in the middle of the night after having bugger-all marijuana about 4 hours earlier. The cops escorted me home after taking my blood - causing me to lose my driver's licence for a year - having no car and needing to get my wallet from my mates house resulted in the unplanned trip over the bridge. Half the journey across I was 'hearing voices' that where people in nearby houses praying for random things directly into my mind, half the prayers cancelled out with the other half moments later (ie. "please God, make it rain more" and "please God, make it rain less"), so I felt no need to mentally respond to the voices with anything other than "quit being selfish", and they immediately ceased.

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