So I’ve become a hypocrite.

Who would’ve guessed it could happen to me? I certainly didn’t. Hypocrites are dirty; dirty and evil. And now I’m a soiled member of their brotherhood. Or am I? If one ridicules people for doing something, then does it herself but continues making fun of the people who do it regularly, is she a hypocrite? I think so. And that’s all that really counts, because your brain is the only one dealing with it.

It was an accident. But maybe not. Peer pressure? That was definitely part of it. So here’s the story.

I got home from a long day of work and was planning on going to bed as soon as I could get changed. But when I walked in the door, my sleepiness faded to the dull ache of boredom. I wandered around the house, trying to ignore the loud music pumping through the subwoofer in the basement where my younger brother was having a party of some sort. I had seen all the cars out on the street and in the driveway. I had to park five minutes away from my own house. Curiosity took control, and I decided to go see what was up.

I walked down the stairs and opened the door to a world of darkness and glow sticks. I found my brother sitting in his room with Sheena. Stacey and Mike walked in right behind me, and we all sat around and talked for a bit. Then Adam and Mike insisted I take some e and join in on the good times. I have long been known for making fun of my brother and Sheena for taking ecstasy so much – the constant presence of the baby pacifiers and endless glasses of water, the glow sticks and loud techno (my own cds used against my ears). I declined, saying I wasn’t comfortable doing it at that time and place. Yes, it was my own house. But the person I trusted most was absent, and the person I trusted least was holding my hand and staring at me with huge, dilated pupils while chewing on a pacifier like there was no tomorrow. Her name is Sheena. She makes my entire head hurt.

Mike offered me a pill at half price, but I still refused. Then my brother offered to pay for it. I decided “why not; it’s free.” I gave in.

I took the pale orange circle, looked at the tiny white flecks mixed in, the large P stamped onto it (I later learned that stood for Peter Pan). Everyone told me it would be the worst taste in the world, so I was prepared for anything. I chewed it up some and washed it down with water, as directed. It wasn’t bad at all. Guess they’ve never tried powdered Prozac mixed in water.

I waited, and waited, and waited. Watched most of The Matrix and I still wasn’t feeling a thing. In order to keep everyone’s spirits up, I said I was feeling good. They even got me to dance some. Then I gave up and went upstairs to watch The Fifth Element in peace. And that was the end of it.

No pacifiers, no water. No dilated pupils, no touch-feely-ness or need to smoke a cigarette. Guess there’s something horribly, horribly wrong with my brain that even drugs can’t touch.

Update: 01/23/01
I did some more research on the interaction of antidepressants and ecstasy. A study was done with patients on Prozac taking e -- here are the results:

For half of the people who take Prozac, their experiences with ecstasy are no different than any other person's would be. For the other half, the effects of ecstasy are reduced, sometimes only slightly and other times completely. Guess that's what happened in my case.

No more XTC for kaytay. My brain cells will thank me some day.