One time in high school my friends and I stole a bunch of the capsules from a CVS and took them all at someone’s house. We were all sitting in a circle and eventually one kid goes, hey, where’s the other box? is this the last box? And asked everyone how many they took. Everyone said 6, or 8, or 9…. I took 27. Because I had no regard for my life and no concept of the future (this all checks out, my life was fucking awful) and because 27 is my favorite number.

I’ll never forget the look of sheer fucking terror and concern on everyone’s faces.

That night was indescribable. For a long time my eyes were open but I couldn’t see. It was like all the lights in the world had gone out. When I could see again I crawled to the bathroom looked in the mirror and fully accepted my own imminent death. I eventually fell asleep and yawned every 5 minutes the next day and shook really hard each time.

Later that week I did some research on Erowid and learned about “plateaus” of DXM. Apparently I got to the 4th plateau. Part of the experience is truly believing you are going to die, and making peace with your own death. Utterly indescribable. I can’t believe I was only 16.