I love you.

Ecstasy has recently been on my mind. I haven’t given it much thought over the past two years. Nor have I tried to impose the experience on others; I found no takers and after awhile, this stopped bothering me. Lastly, with time and the objectivity of hindsight, I now understand that it probably was not a good idea for me to use it as much as I did. But in any case, ecstasy remains the most emotionally consequential component of a long course of substance abuse that I like to call my twenties. Although many of you have heard this pitch before and may not understand why (1) I felt the need to tell people about it in the first place; and (2) persisted in telling people about it even when it became clear that no one was interested in it, bear with me--for whatever reason, this means something to me.

But first, a few caveats. Ecstasy is a controlled substance and violation of federal and state law is an unavoidable consequence of its use. While unlikely, getting arrested for possession is not personally or professionally beneficial. Second, it’s bad for you. For those of you who have seen Eternal Sunshine, I believe the line goes: “Are there any side-effects?” “Well, yes. It’s technically brain damage, you know.” This is subject to dispute, a recent study suggests that claims of irreversible damage to memory and concentration are overblown. But from my experience, it does do subtle things to your thought process; for instance, it’s harder for me to type now. Ecstasy is also mildly habit-forming. Lastly, just to make things clear--do not read this as a pharmaceutical circular, I am not advocating that you use this drug. I could never in good faith let my brother, my girlfriend, or anyone else in my family use ecstasy. Should you decide that this is worth trying, that is your own personal decision, a decision that you should make after weighing what could be a severe array of consequences.

In spite of all these drawbacks, I remain thankful that a friend persisted in getting me to try it, and that I eventually capitulated. I have never felt as alive as I did when I was under the influence of mdma. It was transcendent. I simply cannot accurately convey this feeling of euphoria to you because it’s so physically unnatural--nothing in your life would have produced the serotonin levels that mdma achieves and as a result, it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. And I don’t mean to cheapen life, because life is full of things that make you happy. But for me, happiness is something pleasant, or fun, or relieving. Unadulterated bliss is much rarer, and ecstasy basically takes that feeling and pushes it to a level well beyond what God intended. I often thought that if heaven is anything close to what e is like, it may be time to mend my ways. It’s just qualitatively different.

Euphoria probably is a bad word to describe it, because the sensation isn’t overwhelming, or even exciting (unless external factors make it so). Many enjoy rolling in clubs, but I hated it. It’s too much--I feel like it deadens the experience. Again, I can’t describe the sense of tranquility that I once felt, lying shirtless on my lawn while staring at a starless sky. It certainly wasn’t a pretty view--I was in a city and the clouds were ugly and red. But I was cognizant of every single blade of grass on my back, the breeze on my chest, a drip of sweat running down my forehead, the glint of street light reflecting off our metal gate, and other minutiae that I would not otherwise notice. Everything was still, precise, and for lack of a better word, correct. It was as if an inconceivable number of natural and historical events, each contingent on what came before them, had united to produce that one inexorable moment, a moment in which everything was exactly the way it was meant to be, but which so easily could have been unimaginably different. I have never felt so glad to simply exist.

If you’ve seen movies that play e for laughs, many of them have scenes in which characters indiscriminately express their affection for others while under the influence. This is fairly accurate. But I think it depends on the user. I tended to be selective with who I lavished attention on while rolling, and generally limited myself to close friends and significant others. There have been a couple notable exceptions, one being a friend of a friend who was a newbie when we rolled together. I don’t know exactly what it was about this guy, but I just liked him. It may be because he understood that rolling was much more satisfying if you made it an introverted process. Some people talk a lot of stupid shit when they roll. The guys that I most enjoyed rolling with were those that, like everyone else, talked a lot of stupid shit (we were on drugs, this should not be unexpected), but at least tried to convey something meaningful while doing so.

Anyway, I was rolling with a relative stranger (nice guy, but no history on which to base a friendship), and since it was his first time, my buddy and I were trying to nurture him through the process. We decided to do this while straight, but once the mdma kicked in, what was originally an act of courtesy snowballed into something much more profound. Don’t laugh--three hours later I came to the realization that at that moment, I loved this person. I really did. And it wasn’t even the kind of love that I’ve employed in my romantic relationships (i.e., WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR ME LATELY?); instead, it was selfless. Nothing meant more to me than this guy’s happiness. You’d think that this would be a disconcerting feeling to have as a heterosexual male, but it was not. Although I understood the inauthenticity of the situation and knew full well that this feeling would soon pass, for the first time in my entire fucking life, I felt like a good person instead of some closeted asshole who only did nice things so that nice things would happen to him.

Well. That's why I loved it so much. I can’t say that I miss it. Nor can I say that you should try it, because it may not be worth your while. But that’s my story.