Can of Joy, Can of Self-Destruction

Inhalants - Duster

Citation: Chris. "Can of Joy, Can of Self-Destruction: An Experience with Inhalants - Duster (exp39181)". Erowid.org . Sep 1, 2006. erowid.org/exp/39181

DOSE:

repeated inhaled Inhalants (gas)

BODY WEIGHT: 165 lb

[Erowid Note: Our understanding of the literature is that there is no such thing as safe recreational use of volatile solvents, aerosols and other street inhalants : their psychoactive effects are inseparable from nerve and organ damage. We have chosen to include these reports to help document the real world use of inhalants, but their inclusion is not intended to imply that they are anything but dangerous.]

About nine months ago my curiosity got the best of me and I tried inhaling from a can of air duster. Duster is nothing like what some of the people on the internet describe. There are no hallucinations; and most importantly, I do not come down quickly--at least, not if I take more than a couple of huffs. But people are right in reporting that it is very addictive, and in retrospect very scary.On my first attempt, I pointed the straw of the nozzle into my open mouth and sprayed as I inhaled. I tried this about three times and felt a slight buzz, but I decided I wasn't getting enough for it to work, so I closed my mouth around the straw and deeply inhaled the spray.I held my breath for as long as I could, and after several seconds I began to hear a pulsating, rushing sound in my ears, then suddenly an intense wave of pleasure swept over me. How do I describe it? It was like I was taken into another world. Nothing around me mattered; all that mattered was the pleasure inside me, and the nagging question, how could anything feel so good?When the initial rush was over, I felt two things: First, I felt like I had found everything I ever wanted. It was perfect gratification. In a way it was a numb feeling, but not like alcohol; it was the kind of numbness that comes from an experience so intensely joyful that there is no need to say, feel, or do anything else.Second, I wanted more. I wanted the feeling to go on forever and ever. And so I inhaled again.The second huff was much like the first, but even more intense. And I felt utter joy. I had found everything I'd ever wanted, and then found that I could have even more of it. A third, then a fourth time--each time better than the time before, and so I just kept going. I would take a huff, stop for air, then go back for another. I was no longer even thinking; it was completely automatic now.I was in a fog of pure bliss, taking in breath after breath of pleasure. Now I really was in my own world, a world where everything was comfort and joy.Then I was laying face down in my own vomit, with no memory of how it happened. I no longer felt pleasure, but my mind was numb to any of the normal sensibilities or inhibitions. My situation did not strike me as being a bad sign or even particularly out of the ordinary. I simply cleaned up the mess (but the next day I saw that I had done a very poor job).I soon became aware of a new feeling: I believed I could just do whatever I wanted to. It wasn't a conscious thought; rather, I would just automatically give into whatever impulse I felt. I think I could have done myself or other people a lot of harm if my impulses had been dangerous. Luckily, they were only embarrassing, and I will not discuss them here. However, I would have done anything I had the impulse and opportunity to do. Inhibition was nonexistent, and I fear that I was a very dangerous person at this stage.I had begun huffing around 7:30 PM, and had woken up in my vomit at around 8:45. I don't remember throwing up, and I dont know how long I was out. But I was in this uninhibited state for probably six more hours before I finally went to sleep. The entire next day I felt horribly groggy and unfocused, and I was incapable of anything mentally or physically demanding.That was my first experience with duster, and I have had several since. Each has been more pleasurable than the one before. I have learned to control my use of the duster to avoid passing out, and this has brought the joy of the experience to a new level. Ten good huffs will make me high for 12 hours straight. It feels heavenly, but I have to be careful about when I do it, because I cannot think at all.Coming down has become difficult the past few times. As I am coming down, I search the recesses of my mind, trying to grab hold of the memory of that feeling, but it eludes me. And to make matters worse, duster is a tease. When I think I've come down, the feelings suddenly come back. And when they come back, I realize how much I love the can, how much I want to feel its joy in me again.But I cannot do this to myself; my family depends on me. So instead I live every day with this craving, with this memory of a feeling I can't quite recall, but that I long for continually.Sometimes I give in. Late last night after the rest of my family was in bed, I snuck out and got a can, and huffed on it for probably twenty minutes. I have been high all day. Even now, 18 hours since my last huff, I just felt another rush, so strong that all I could do was lean back in my chair and revel in the excitement my body was feeling. My head is awash with joy. All kinds of wild thoughts are going through my mind, of things I could do. I want to laugh, dance, and have unbridled sex with my wife, all at once. It feels wonderful, but I know that this must stop.Can I stop? I don't know. This stuff is a trap, as surely as any hard drug. Yes, it's loads of fun, but it's taking over my life. I'm afraid I may do it again tonight; it is consuming me.