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The weather forecast was gloomy, and the sky a dishwater gray. Not what many psychedelic users would consider good conditions for a trip, but something about it felt right. I grabbed a tiny glass vial out of the fridge and carefully siphoned out a small but solid dose, then waited nervously. Although LSD has never made me feel any genuinely negative feelings, I usually can’t say the same about the first hour long wait to feel something. But this time, the onset was remarkably free of anxiety. Long before the first effects made their appearance, I had a strong feeling that it would be a particularly special trip.

The soft rain outside had transformed into something musical, enticing me to leave the house and go on an adventure with no specific goals. I bundled up in several layers of clothes and grabbed an umbrella on the way out, although I never ended up using it. The biting chill couldn’t touch the incandescent warmth that radiated from within me, and I enjoyed splashing through puddles and turning my face up to the cold droplets of rain without a care in the world. The formerly bleak sky now shimmered with magic, and the world seemed vibrant again. I walked through a muddy field, amazed at how joyful such a mundane activity could be.

If MDMA is the love drug, then it could be said that LSD is the nostalgia drug.

LSD users often describe it as invoking feelings of innocence and awe, or bringing them back to childhood. A 2016 fMRI study even found that subjects under the influence of the drug had similar brain activity to that of infants. Among all of the psychedelics I had taken, LSD seemed to be the most consistent in its effects, producing the same distinctive feeling of mystical wonder every time. Taking it on a cold winter day only made the effect more striking, reminding me of the warm and fuzzy feelings I once had near Christmas, when I was still too young to understand commercialism.

Upon returning home, I thought it would be a good idea to tell my boyfriend what I had done that morning. He wasn’t surprised, commenting that it seemed like I had been in an unusually good mood. When I insisted it was the best day of my life, he pointed out that I always say that when I’m on acid. That was true, but I really meant it. Every time. By the evening, the effects slowly began to slip away, and I was genuinely sad to see them go. It felt like parting ways with my best friend from childhood, even though I knew there would more opportunities to partake in the future.