... The thought occurred to me that everyone that happened before this moment was fake, all the people I've met and things I've experienced, etc. I became animalistic and didn't feel human, it was very bizarre. I looked at a logo on my shirt and at this moment I felt as though I was in a video game or something. My friends eventually found me, picked me up and started taking me to the car, to which I still felt a bit on shrooms and felt like I was in a zombie movie or something eerie...
Despite not enjoying it, in terms of unenjoyable trips, that's actually about the best you could hope for. I think you lucked out. Take from the experience what you need, and leave it be. I probably shouldn't, but I'll share the last experience I had with mushrooms. It's not a pleasant read, so avoid if you're not feeling up to it.
I used to do a lot of drugs when I was younger. Acid was the hardest I went, and once or twice of that was more than enough for me. Mushrooms, however, were a favourite of my circle. A few months after I "quit", I decided to re-visit one last time for old times sake. Things did not go well. Keep in mind that prior to this experience, I was a well adjusted individual with no mental health issues of any kind.
Initially, things were right as rain. The world around me consisted of thoughts that expanded and contracted as they do, and my ideas folded in on themselves and revealed new and interesting nothings that I couldn't vocalise. And then... something happened - I became aware of my altered state of mind. Not just acknowledging that I was tripping balls, but I could understand, comprehend and feel that my mental state was altered, and that I was not in control of this sensation. Somewhere, I became detached from my own mind. Two of me where thinking at the same time. One part of me knew what was happening, and was observing and understanding with the clarity of a sober mind. The other part of me was experiencing this new sensation unshielded, and eventually this second part became trapped in a loop of thoughts that I couldn't control.
The part that could understand was afraid - it knew what was happening, and that it wasn't normal. And then it was afraid of being afraid. And every few moments when the sober part re-realised I was afraid, it magnified the emotion of the other part. I realised I was unable to break the mental loop of fear. Every thought I could muster was interrupted by the inescapable sensation of pure terror. I never knew a person could be so afraid. Afraid of nothing, but absolutely so. Pure, undiluted, uncontrollable terror. And then things got bad.
At this point I had left my friend's house, walking the streets in the late night, rambling to myself about being afraid of being afraid. I couldn't control myself. I felt like my skin was on fire, and I kept feeling my chest to check my heart beat, only to find it beating faster and faster. The sober part of me knew that this was dangerous, and its understanding only fuelled the fear. And then that fear triggered the fear of being afraid, making everything worse. I knew that if I was found like this, I would be treated for drug-induced psychosis. But the fear wouldn't let me rationalise. I began to picture myself trapped in an asylum, forever unable to break my mind free of the mental loop of fear. And then I really started to lose it.
My fear of this fictional asylum took over my mind, and I was actually there. I couldn't control anything, but I could feel it as real as anything I've ever felt. And it felt like a life-time of events playing out all at once. Being spoon fed meals as I fought away orderly's, my family trying to visit me only to be pushed away by my mental breakdown, being used as examples of what not to do, my girlfriend leaving me, etc. Every emotion - the fear, the shame, the helplessness, the loss, the depression - hit me like brick wall, over and over. I couldn't break the loop. And every time I realised I couldn't break the loop, it made me more afraid. My whole life played out before me as real as anything I've ever encountered. I was alone in a padded room, crying, helpless and alone. That's the last thing I remember.
I woke up in my bed at home in the morning. I'd even managed to put on my pyjamas. To this day I don't know how I got there. No one's ever mentioned anything about it. This is actually the first I've ever really gone into it. As I laid there in my bed, I realised my heart was beating normal, my thoughts were my own again. But I remembered every single moment of that experience. And I still do. I can recall it as if it were yesterday. Hell, typing this out, my hands are shaking, and my hearts running faster. I'm still afraid of that feeling, and every now and again I feel like I might be slipping back into it. I never have though, and I've gotten good at pulling myself back. But its always there. Always.
Since that night, I've had countless mental issues. I'm significantly more aware of my own body - hyper-aware, really. I can feel my heart beating every moment of every day. You ever had that mental thing pulled on you where someone says "You are now manually breathing" or "You are now manually blinking", and it makes you aware? I live that. Every day. Anxiety is a major concern for me. I can't drink caffeinated drinks anymore - it raises my heart rate every so slightly, and I feel it, and my mind begins to think its slipping back into that feeling. I get anxious sitting in the cinema, and often have to skip movies on the big screen and watch them at home. I usually have to excuse myself during social gatherings because its so overwhelming, and I have to sit in the bathroom and practice controlled breathing for a while until my heart stops racing.
I have good days and bad days, but I'm a lot better now than I was for a while afterwards. There are days where I don't even think about it. But I know I can never go back to the way I was before. So, my advice: quit while the goings good - you don't wanna be there when it goes bad.