Reality bending Butane experience

I'm a 16, almost 17-year-old guy. Never tried any drugs except morphine in the microgram range. I suffer from heavy depression, and barely ever get to feel even a bit of happiness. That is why I want to try drugs-even if it kills me. Had I had a button on my desk that would kill me instantly, I would press it ages ago. Any good drug tips for me, if anyone has them, are welcome, and thanks in advance.

Now, onto the story itself, a little background first. I tried butane at school with friends and while walking around; almost got run over by a car. Anyway, this weekend I took the bottle home, which was a huge mistake.

This was the only time my sister was home, so I planned on doing only one or two breaths. Completely forgetting how addictive it can get and me wanting to keep doing it to prolong the high, I did it twice that day.

First Trip:

My first trip started in my room at what must have been around 2:30 p.m., though time felt irrelevant. I wanted to take minor hits here and there just so that I would stay in control but not too much, the effect out of my control completely. My room was dark, although it did receive a little light courtesy of my computer screen while YouTube played in the background, breaking the silence.

I did a few short breaths, then started to slip. I inhaled one more time and suddenly—nothingness. I blacked out. Three minutes later, I woke up, groggy but yet desperate for more. It was like, inside me, something had been released with all this urge toward going deeper. I kept doing hit after hit, sinking deeper.

I'd come back from blackouts and feel like my room was too familiar and utterly alien. Sounds began to warp inside my head-strange, rippling noises that seemed to come from miles away yet pulse right next to my ear. This was almost as if I had been dragged into another layer of reality, one in which sounds took up shapes and touched the edges of my vision. There was no line between real and unreal anymore, and I was balancing on the edge.

Then, of course, there was the loudest crash of shattering glass. It wasn't happening in front of me; it was going on inside my head, but it was real enough to send a shock through my entire body. My first thought, in my twisted state, was that someone was breaking into my sister's room, coming to hurt her. Suddenly, I was on my feet, then storming down the hallway, then—darkness again.

I came to, lying on the floor in my sister's room; she stared at me, shock and confusion in every inch of her face. Her look cut through the haze for a moment, and I felt this odd sensation of guilt, though I wasn't even sure what I'd done. Having gotten up, I asked her what had happened. She said I had burst into her room, flinging open the door, tried to punch a potted plant by the window, then stumbled backward. I even started talking to her lamp as if it was some old friend before I "woke up."

I went reeling back to my room, my mind in a daze. I thought, That's it, no more for today. Of course, it didn't quite go that way.

Later that night, I had dinner, went to the bathroom, and here I was again in my room, fixated on this bottle. I wanted to do this "dragon's breath" trick where you inhale butane and then breathe out fire.

Trip 2:

I took a deep hit, filling my lungs as much as I could. When I exhaled, flames roared out in a terrifying blaze that lit up the room and startled me so badly I almost dropped the bottle. I froze for a moment, heart racing, and though I exhaled immediately, the high hit me. Hard.

That's when I completely lost control. Hit after hit, all merging and blurring together, loosening my hold on reality. In and out of consciousness, snapping back each time to something entirely bizarre happening, a room that seemed stuck in this weird, distorted memory; people materializing in the corners of my vision, watching from the edges of the shadows. Of course, they weren't, but they were real enough - almost - that I could practically feel the breath rising off them.

Then, the situation got even stranger. I saw a little boy sitting on my bed, staring at me with this unnerving sense of familiarity, as if he were my son. I could see my mother standing behind him, half-concealed but unmistakable, through the open door of my wardrobe. They spoke in low, distant tones that sounded like they echoed from some long-forgotten corner of my mind.

I didn't know how long I stayed this way. In my mind, it was hours, it was days, an eternity at least. Then suddenly, in the snap of a finger, the room just appeared to dissolve from underneath my feet, and I felt myself falling-not inside my mind, but in my body-as if even gravity had forsaken me. I fell through my chair, then through the floor, then deeper and deeper through the earth. My stomach heaved, and I was in freefall, tumbling through darkness and colors that pulsed and glowed around me.

And then, as if my brain had suddenly rewired the rules of the universe, I saw it-the "real" universe. A huge, gold crystal ball in a sea of nothingness, circled by shadows and shapes which spiralled around it; I felt like I was standing in front of something ancient beyond my recognition and some kind of power. It wasn't any different in my hallucination since I felt like fighting the greatest enemy, believing that this crystal held everything that I was afraid of. Then in an instant I was inside of it, and a part of its enormity along with everything else that had ever been: every person, every thing.

Inside, I felt myself floating in this timeless state, being the prisoner inside the crystal ball. Millions of thoughts ran through my head, one fading into the next. It felt like I was there for weeks, living endless life in the crystal, where every second was endless and also instantaneous.

My sister then burst into the room, like a bomb going off, snatching the bottle from my hand. I was lying on the floor and still reached for a bottle that wasn't there; my mind dazed in a blur of what was reality.

I think when I finally came to, it was just another hallucination, my sister intervening. And I searched everywhere in my room, frantic for that bottle, in every single place even where it couldn't be, like my closet and under the mattress. I eventually went out into the living room where I thought I was going insane.

When my dad came home, he gave me hell for what I'd done before finally sending me to bed. But sleep was out of the question. My brain was still buzzing, and the echoes of that experience were still twisting through my mind. At least for me, after doing butane, sleep doesn't come for about eight hours. I ended up falling asleep around 5 a.m.

The next morning, my mom was in tears over breakfast, her face weighed down with sorrow. That was when it dawned on me how much more than just myself I was harming with what I was doing. My depression led me not to care, even though I was playing with my life. I still have that urge now, two weeks later.

Since then, I have tried glue, spray paint, and gasoline, but none of them gave me the same buzz. I am just waiting for something stronger that my friend will get so that we can smoke it for a good time.

Although the intensity of duster and butane is great, really, I would personally only suggest trying it once with friends at a party. Otherwise, seriously, I advise against it because it is super addictive, and with just one breath, there could be permanent brain damage or even death.