Oh, Susquehanna!

All I remember of shrooms, the one time I did it, were the curtains. The fucking gorgeous, ethereal, beautiful curtains. My girlfriend (of the time) and I just watched them wave in the wind that that was drifting into her apartment.

It was my first time.

I remember scraping what she gave me off of a Mr. Silly book. Taking them, slightly worried about what would happen, but completely comfortable knowing she was there.

We sat in her living room. Her first apartment, her first living room. We sat there and I remember telling her that it was kicking in. Her roommate entered shortly after and I tried to communicate with her, but all I could tell her is that she had a wonderfully Tim Burton-esque quality to her. I was high as fuck.

We laid on the floor and held hands and watched the curtains fluttter. They were beautiful. She had set up gorgeous blue LEDs all around the window frame to give it more character and it really just made the curtains more beautiful.

She had this painting that her friend made in her living room. It was of a Roman soldier and it was nice. As we got more and more fucked up from the shrooms the painting reflected that. It melted. It became distorted. I don’t know what happened to it in the end but it was pretty much gone.

There was a time where we just laid on the floor, making out. I enjoyed her existence. I enjoyed my cigarettes. I enjoyed everything. It’s my happiest memory of her.

The last thing I remember is laying in her bed, listening to Andrew W.K. while I’m enjoying the patterns he made. She asked me what I saw and I explained it.

That’s the last happiest memory I have.