WHY DO I WRITE?

Writing was always a therapeutic outlet for me. Ever since I was very small and could write, I always did. If I was upset or just happy, I would write about my day and boys I had crushed on. Then as I got older I seemed to resent it more because it was forced in school. I still journaled often but it was full of teenage angst and I never wanted to write more than I had to. So I fell of the page for a while until one weekend at Aura music festival, I rediscovered what I needed to do.

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I was wondering around checking out the vendors and all the festival had to offer. This was my very first festival all by my lonesome, so I had complete freedom and uninhibited will to go and see everything and every one. It was a full moon, I believe it was valentines day as well. I was walking around looking for a fire to join, and I stood in front of a barrel I felt good about. There was a tall boy next to me who was blocking the moon light and I remember scooting over so I could have a clear view of it. I mentioned something about it to the couple of hippies around this barrel and they all admired as well. The tall boy next to me looked back at me and introduced himself. He was a good looking fella I might add so I knew I was in trouble.

His name was Mattias. He was Swedish and he had gotten himself a VIP pass and he too was all alone at this festival. We got to talking and had a lot in common and spent some time together for the next day then continued a relation for a little while after that. But while at Aura, he had brought some blue cap mushrooms with him. And if you’ve never had blue caps before I suggest not too take as many as you have, moderation with those things because they are troublesome little devils. We both probably ate close to and eighth and thats far more than I’ve ever consumed in one sitting. Needless to say, it went a rye very quickly.

Fungus takes a little bit until you can fully feel it coursing in your blood and effecting your vision, tripping you out, making you dizzy, and giving you the damn yawns. We wandered to the main stage and I think it was PapaDosio that we saw at that stage. I had seen them before and I love them; so I sat against a tree, listened attentively and waited for the trip to start. I remember watching an LED poi flow from this guy who was absolutely killer at it. Thats when the mushrooms hit.

I saw light trails coming off of everything moving, like in Donnie Darko when he sees that plasma pulling people to where they go. Everything got outrageously bright, like the sun had just risen and we were as close as we could be to that bright star. The trees got much taller, and I shrank smaller. It was super cold that night and I started shaking. I still don’t know if it was the mushrooms, just the cold, or both but I had to get up and go back to my tent. It wasn’t even because of me shaking, but because I was tripping hard and it was the most cerebral I had ever experienced.

It took what seemed like an hour to get back to my tent, I’m sure it was only like ten minutes though, but time slows down and speeds up all at once when you take psychedelics. Since I don’t take them often, that was definitely a factor of my super crazy mind falling out of my ears. I got back to my tent, and immediately burritoed myself into my sleeping bag and flew off into my head. I don’t exactly know if I fell asleep or stayed awake just tripping out, but either way this is what happened.

I mandala of Egyptian hieroglyphs, and geometric shapes all swirling in a vortex toward a black hole kind of center. I kept hearing me or some other manifestation of myself telling me to write this down. YOU NEED TO WRITE THIS. YOU NEED TO GO FIND PAPER AND WRITE THIS DOWN. YOU NEED TO WRITE A BOOK. WRITE A BOOK. I woke up at sunrise, took the craziest poop of my life, peed a gallons worth of pee, then went on about my day. That very week I believe I started this blog and began to write my heart out. I later found my voice, and the inspiration for the novella I am currently writing.

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So why do I write?

I write because its good for me. It heals my mind, and keeps my voice loud. Even if no one reads or hears, its my free form of therapy.

I ask you, why do you write?

Blessings and love

Tally

 

 

 

 

 

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