Citation: ThePoobaman. "Stay the Fuck Away: An Experience with Clonazolam (exp108233)". Erowid.org. Apr 6, 2016. erowid.org/exp/108233
It is very rare for me to write off a substance entirely. I think most drugs can be used successfully (or at least harmlessly) when the right information and resources are available. However, I must recommend that you entirely clear of clonazolam. I don’t know if it’s any different from other benzodiazepines, but please read this experience before trying clonazolam.
I remember my first encounter with clonazolam. I had texted my dealer, stressed about a disciplinary meeting with a university official the next morning , and asked him if he had anything to help me sleep. He told me he had some clonazolam and he would give me a lot of it for a very low price. After some brief research, I determined it was similar to Klonopin.
I arrived at my dealer’s, and he was clearly intoxicated. I asked him if he was drunk. “I’m on it right now,” he told me. I gave him $5 and he eyeballed (this MUST be dosed volumetrically, eyeballing will make this already dangerous drug even more chaotic and unpredictable) “20 or 30 doses.”
I shrugged my shoulder and decided I would weigh it out later on my milligram scale. I knew that the threshold dose was in the sub-milligram range, so I eyeballed the tiniest speck I could find and put it under my tongue. Within 30 minutes, I felt a nice drowsiness and drifted off to sleep.
The next day I weighed it out and discovered he had sold me 8 mg, or about 32 “doses” of 250 micrograms. I dissolved it in 32 drops of water in a blue dropper bottle. Dissolved may be the right word, as it just formed a murky solution. Regardless, once I shook it, it was evenly mixed. I pretty much forgot about it for the next two weeks. Then, my dealer texted me once more.
“I’ll give you the rest of the clonazolam for $20,” he said. I agreed. It was 31 mg of fine powder. After doing a lot more research on benzodiazepines, I told my friends I had a large quantity of a mysterious substance, and they were all interested. I sold it to them for $1 per 250 microgram dose, warning them not to drink on it (in my research, I discovered this was a bad reaction). They all loved it. I noticed it produced effects similar to drunkenness or other benzodiazepines, but lasted much longer - up to 12 hours. This is when I first saw the harm potential of this drug.
A friend of mine, who I’ll call Z, had past experience with Xanax and was excited to try a new benzo. I gave him 6 drops (1.5 mg) and sent him on his way. A few hours later, he and two other friends appeared at my door. The other friends wanted the drops, too. Z seemed much more fucked up than I thought 1.5 mg could make him, and I asked him if he’d had anything else. He told me he smoked a lot of weed and cigarettes and drank two bottles of wine. I immediately told everyone that I wasn’t going to sell him (or them) anymore, at risk of him dying. They spent the rest of the night taking care of him, and he had ZERO memory of the night the next morning. Total blackout.
I shrugged it off, attributing the chaos of the night before to Z’s idiocy and his low body weight. I was just glad nobody got hurt. I told myself I would be more careful about who I sold to and how much I sold them.
Then, on a cold, blizzarding winter night, the university emailed us that class would be cancelled for the next day, and probably the day after too. I woke up the next morning and decided to enjoy my snow day with some clonazolam.
I administered six drops at around noon. Things get a little blurry here, but I’ll try to relay what I remember.
I went to my dealer’s and played Smash with him for a bit. I wasn’t very good at it. He told me I shouldn’t redose, and he sold the clonazolam to me to get rid of it because it was giving him problems. I laughed. I redosed after I left, another four drops. My memory after this gets increasingly hazed.
Throughout the day and night, I continuously redosed. I remember smoking with some friends who were genuinely concerned by my physical and emotional instability (I was falling on the snow and getting insane mood swings). I gave them a lot of the clonazolam too - and we had an insane (but fun) night of misadventures. I can barely remember anything.
The next day, I did the same thing. I got in a fight with my girlfriend, who had also had some, and she broke up with me. The next morning, I woke up next to her with no memory of the break-up. We didn’t remember why we broke up, and I decided it was time to set aside the clonazolam for a while.
Meanwhile, Z was developing a nasty addiction to the clonazolam. For his own good, I refused to sell him any more and he constantly bothered me asking for more. Eventually he left me alone and realized he had a problem.
I decided I ought to get rid of it, and, just like my dealer, I passed my curse along to a friend. I sold it to my roommate. Before long, all of our mutual friends and I realized he was becoming addicted to the drug and damaging his life, and we secretly stole it away from him and hid it in my girlfriend’s room.
But the true reason I think clonazolam is horrible was not any of the above events. It was a night precipitated by nothing more than a misunderstanding and 0.75 mg of clonazolam.
My girlfriend had recently cut my hair, so I sent her a text one night while at class “My hair does look good, pretty girls have been chatting me up all day.” She understood this to mean that I was glad that other girls were talking to me and I didn’t like her. She took 3 drops (0.75mg).
I came back from class to her room. She was clearly fucked up, and I asked her if she had taken anything. She told me she had taken clonazolam, and I was a bit upset because 1) it was my clonazolam and she didn’t ask and 2) I was concerned as to why she wanted to take it when she had an early class the next morning.
I let her know that I didn’t like that and she started fighting with me. We don’t usually fight very much, but she was SCREAMING at me. This reminded me of some past drug-related trauma and I started having a panic attack. She kept yelling at me even as I was bunched up in a ball of tears, begging her to stop. Throughout the evening, she must have told me that we were “over” 20 or 30 times. Eventually she calmed down. We both have relatives who are addicted to heroin, and we talked about how bad drugs can be sometimes.
Then, out of nowhere, she got angry again. She jumped toward the blue dropper bottle, shouting how she was no different from our relatives, how she was an addict, etc, etc, etc. I tackled her and knocked the bottle out of her hand. It spilled (thank God) and she started screaming at me. I started crying and having another panic attack. She kept screaming at me about how mad she was that I had spilled it, licking the bottle and throwing things at me.
There I was, hiding under a desk, weeping uncontrollably, panic surging through my body, terrified that the love of my life had become addicted to some obscure research chemical. I have never felt worse than I did in that moment. I have never been so scared.
She kept threatening to cut herself, saying she needed to relieve the pain, and I had to tackle her again. She screamed at me to leave the room, screamed at me to leave her, telling me she was hopeless and useless and horrible. I couldn’t do anything. I felt powerless against the monster she had turned into. I had to physically restrain her for at least an hour until she calmed down, having several more panic attacks along the way, begging her through tears not to hurt herself. This argument continued for another grueling hour and a half.
Eventually we decided to go on a walk and talk things through and I tried to comfort her. We talked in cycles because she kept forgetting that we had already talked about whatever she was upset about. I had to keep explaining to her that I loved her, that I wasn’t in love with my ex, that I didn’t want to leave her, and so on.
She frequently ignored what I was saying or burst into tears for no reason before I could finish explaining what I was saying (example: “I still love my ex” *she bursts into tears* “no, in the way I love a friend, not like I love you, it’s not romantic” *she walks away and I chase after her* “no, come back”). She was beyond comfort, beyond reason, beyond any help I could give her. I refused to lie to her, but even simple truths seemed to be unacceptable to her.
Eventually she seemed to have forgotten the whole argument and I put her to bed. The next morning, she didn’t even remember what the fight was about.
This drug is awful. It removes all self-control, emotional stability and dignity. It makes you unable to understand basic information. It makes you paranoid, angry and terrified. It makes you hate and fear those who you love.
Stay the fuck away from clonazolam.
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