By: Cosmic Entity
“….a medicine or other substance which has a physiological effect when ingested or otherwise introduced into the body.”
It is a known fact that I have spent majority of my life under the influence. But I never have time to explain the full story of how I came to be the drug enthusiast of my discourse community. Let’s start from the first time I smoked weed then conclude with getting the celexa and ecstasy pumped from my stomach in part two; all within a time period of three years.
The suburban slums described the area I grew up in.
It was not my first love or deep infatuation but it was a guy and he was essential to my development. Saying he was just some guy would strongly depend on your perspective of normal. Some guy that was two years older than me, who lived in a house that produced drugs and didn’t really have much going for him because he was two years behind in school; yeah he’s your average joe. He was just your average fourteen year old running bundled bags of coke to grandma’s house to be distributed so the wolves in blue wouldn’t be the wiser.
It was probably a cloudy day when we met, I only rode my bike at night or when the sun was completely concealed. Once fascination faded and we just spoke, it became a relationship in the weakest definition of a relationship. The first day he introduced weed to me, it was more a ritual rather than an introduction. A ‘if you smoke this right, you will be my kin’ if you will. I hear people talk about their first high being this nirvana like experience, it just felt good. It just felt warm; a warm that can be easily replaced but never quite copied.
I moved into complete suburbia. My habits were still the same. Parks, parents with time consuming jobs and siblings away at school was a true stoner’s paradise. I smoked by myself for the most part, many of my peers were still walking around with the red ribbon drug-free stickers stuck to the binder they held closely to their chest. I spent middle school in a literal fog, the world was my personal joke.
(Things about weed that most people don’t really talk about. Kissing with cotton mouth is terrible but performing oral sex with cotton mouth is just shameful. Coming from a girl who once had a gap, producing saliva at an impressive rate was a pastime, I couldn’t keep up with the demand.)
By this time, I wasn’t depressed yet. I was going out, reading a shit load of books, building my music collection and smoking through it all. Curiosity came into play after about one forth of an ounce and feeling a little more sober than before. Weed wasn’t enough anymore. I wanted to feel like the music I heard. I wanted to flow like an author’s words. I want to feel more than just good.
Going to concerts and punk shows at first just for music but it became a culture for me. There I was smoking with a group of people who knew about literature and music that wasn’t featured on black entertainment television. I didn’t realize their importance until now because then, they were a drug connection.
The easiest to get were mushrooms. Sitting in a basement of assorted band tees and vague opinions, some random guy offered me one. In the amazing world of drugs, if you sit back and wait: you will be served. Instead of inhaling it, I asked for another and waited for the perfect opportunity to take it. (being a little pretentious princess looking for prince charming in scenic occult) I remember the exact time I took them because I was hoping to time the experience. 7:15 on a spring night I was in a basement watching a band having the time of their lives or I was hysterical and I was having the time of my life. It felt like fake fun. I knew I was having fun and everything looked aroused but it was just that, animated. Cartoon animated, the characters are aware of themselves but not the show and I just want to know who was watching my show. My first time on shrooms was like when you start to fake laugh at something and loose control of your laughter; it felt good to laugh but I don’t really know where it’s coming from.
Mushrooms became a ‘time for a laugh’ type of deal.
Depression came ah-knockin’ at this point. My insurance covered everything that came with therapy which included drugs, drugs and more drugs. I had health issues so I was swimming in pills; I had this theory that taking so many pills weakened my gag reflex which explains why I no longer have one.
Depression medication basically takes away your sex drive, gives you intense headaches and makes you lazy. That’s it.
Ecstasy, oh ecstasy how I love thee.
I don’t remember the first time I took ecstasy or the last. I don’t remember the sex. I don’t remember the dancing. I don’t remember any of the people. Nothing matters because the world tastes good and I feel like a white witch. The world is a warm hug. Sex is like a soothing bubble bath in whirlpool surrounded by fire. Everything you say is out of complete ignorance and your words couldn’t be filled with more bliss. The holes in my brain are aflame and I could careless. Never has a drug made me feel closer to god. Pagans will smile upon me with envy, baby.
This concludes part one. Stay tuned for part two.