Why The Title?
I called it I Want You to Eat My Mushrooms and Die because I needed something that snapped — something that felt loud, unignorable, a little unhinged, and entirely alive.
But beneath the shock and the bite, the title holds something softer, more universal. This is a story about consciousness — not just human consciousness, but the way we’re tied to the strange, miraculous systems around us. The way fungi connect forests underground. The way we inherit trauma and wisdom and decay. It’s about how our minds mirror nature — chaotic, beautiful, dangerous, regenerative.
Mushrooms became the metaphor because they grow from death, from rot, from what’s been left behind. Just like us. And in the end, we all go back — to the soil, to the roots, to the network of life that doesn’t stop when we stop breathing.
This book is about that return. That inevitable re-communion with the world. That terrifying and beautiful truth that we were never separate from anything at all.
Preface
Humans love to talk. To communicate. To exchange thoughts, ideas, and strange little theories with one another. It’s how we make sense of the world. But for any conversation to actually go somewhere—somewhere real—we first need to understand the basics of what we’re even talking about.
That’s really what this book is. Not me telling you what to think, but more like… offering a bunch of stuff to think with. Stuff I’ve come across, thought about, questioned. Some of it might seem obvious, some of it weird, and some might just change how you see things a little.
And by the end of it, if you walk away knowing yourself better—or even just seeing things from a slightly different angle—I’ll call that a win.
So yeah. Let’s get into it.