It wasn't a projection of myself necessarily. It was like a trickster pretending to be somebody you know to get into your house. But it was an emotional skinwalker that vaporized the moment a 3rd party asked what the fuck was going on.
It's honestly impossible to describe the moment when you realize nobody that's real can understand you cause you're talking gibberish, it all makes sense in your head, and that anybody you're talking to that does understand you isn't there.
And you'll immediately forget that realization and start right back up.
And those are the good moments. The ones where you know there's people around you that will keep you from dying.
Doing DPH alone is like willingly walking into schizophrenia. The phantoms in your peripheral that will wave at you so you turn to look and they're gone. The spiders/ants which are projections of how itchy the antihistamine makes you.
Every step you take feels like every step you took before it compounded into one moment so the longer you walk the longer it feels like each step took.
I talked to a hole in my ceiling and when it stopped talking back I plugged it full of cotton balls. Next day I remembered what I did-- there was no hole, no cotton balls anywhere in my room. I went to the bathroom and the cotton balls were in the drawer.
I dunno man. Deliriants are something nobody should do, ever. Do real drugs. Don't do DPH.