I had a pretty solid Saturday. And it was actually quite an eventful one. I woke up to a text and yada yada yada, I’m tripping on acid. Yeah, yeah, judge me all you want. Which I don’t understand at all. Why people judge others. But whatever, that’s not my point. Back to my point. After hours of watching a cool light system I set up in my room with an amazing playlist I created via Pandora--by the way, great app--I decided to go downtown. Dun dun dun!

Alright, so get this. As I’m walking downtown, this beautiful blonde girl walks really fast past me and my roommate. She was wearing a tight black dress and it was pretty cold, so I asked her how cold she was, this is my sense of humor. But like, as I asked, I realized that she was bawling. F*ck me, right?

So I do what I do, and be the solid person I am. I give her my coat, which is a really nice coat. My mom got it for me, so that’s pretty tight. I’m putting the jacket around her, and she’s like “No, I’m okay.” But she’s sliding her arms into my jacket. I just mimic her and laugh. And then she starts laughing. The funniest part is that I had to tell her I was tripping on acid for her to give me her attention. It was strange, I like tried to catch up to her to see if she was okay and she just kept walking but when I said I was tripping on acid, she stopped and came to me. Odd as hell. I walk her home and I tell her things that actually make her laugh like, “Uh, okay, I like Friends?” and she’s like “omg I love Friends” Bingo, Sam. Bingo. We talk about Ross and how he’s the man and she laughs and these were real laughs. I know, because I was on acid. Duh. But she gives me her number which I don’t take because I’m too good for girls right now.

I go downtown and I end up bar hopping with a few friends. I really want to break away from everyone so I just like... slowly walk away while everyone is just drinking and doing their drunk things. Freebase at Bluemoose is like, a dubstep concert for free every Saturday. I love Freebase. Everyone loves Freebase. So I go there, and I kill it on the dance floor and it was crazy because I did not give a fuck about anyone around me. I just danced like there was no tomorrow. I got lost in the moment and I can shuffle really well. So I was shuffling all over the floor and some chicks were totally checking me out. It was sick.

Fast forward a bit, after some amazing, more eventful things happen, I’m walking back to my apartment with a bottle of red wine. Red wine is supposed to be good for the soul and health and whatever. But as I’m walking, I see some chick leaving an apartment with her hood on. Her movement is as if she’s sneaking out so I instantly burst out, “HEY, ARE YOU SNEAKING OUT?!” Go me.

She’s like stunned and then I’m like oh I know what I gotta do, so I say, “Oh don’t worry, I’m tripping balls on acid.” She walks over to me and asks if I need help home. Is this seriously like a pickup line that women like? It’s like 5/5. Sensational. But then I ask her if she really was sneaking out. She opens up instantly which was cool and all, but mind you, I’m tripping balls. She’s in an abusive relationship and so I told her she should get out of it because life is pointless to live if you’re constantly miserable. She was just quiet. So then I was like, “Look ******, you should be happy with the person you are. Are you?”

And she didn’t answer. And then she cried. And then I hugged her. A complete stranger. Cried in my arms. THIS IS THE SECOND TIME TONIGHT.

So ultimately, this post is about the negative stigma LSD gets. Or anything along those lines. I didn’t have any means of hate or destruction. I sat in my room, watched lights while listening to music, and went out and helped people that needed someone. I decided to talk and make people’s days and I did. So my actions were for all of us, the one’s that take the judgement and disgust of society in order to become a more enlightened and mentally stronger individual. I respect all of you that appreciate the beauty that hallucinogens, in right situations and dosages. I know I am a good person. I don’t need you to tell me that.