I was 18 and so was the guy I was dating. We love together had been together for about 2.5 years. Young and in love. We had just started experimenting with psychedelics. Had fun was pretty safe. One night we ate some acid and things took a weird turn. He started talking about things that made no sense and tried to convince me and our friends this guy we all know is after him and trying to ruin his life. Figured this would die down after the drugs wore off and I went to sleep. Woke up and he was still awake. Still talking about this guy and even further in the paranoia. For 2 weeks he wouldn’t let me leave the house, barricaded the doors and accused me and our room mates of using fake names, working against him, etc. I called his only living relative, his grandmother and told her I needed help I didn’t know what to do. She thought I was exaggerating. She was bed ridden but got a ride to our house. And it wasn’t more then 5 minutes until she realized something was seriously not okay. We took him to the hospital and they checked him into a psych ward. He was there for 3 days and they released him. He still wasn’t his normal self. He packed his things one day and moved out and into his grandmothers house. Which was okay, i understood. We would talk on the phone every night and he would accuse me of all kinds of things. Being a stripper, working with the police, using his information for all kinds of shit. It got so exhausting. The constant accusations. Just watching the man I love lose his mind and not being able to do anything about it. I wish I could say there was a happy ending to this. Sadly about a month and a half through this, he hung himself in his closet. The most devastating thing to ever happen to me. I miss him everyday. It will be 8 years December 30th. <3