At a Loss
I really miss the days of high school, for many different reasons, the most prominent one right now being that back then I had so much to say. If I wasn't coming on here every day to expound on my thoughts and feelings, I certainly spent many an hour writing in my physical journal. I felt like what I wrote mattered and I actually felt smart. These days, I have lost confidence in my writing and I've lost the context in which to write. I screwed up college twice, so that's out of the picture ( at least for right now ) and what is there to write in my journal when I do the same thing every God damned day? The last time I was really on a writing streak was when I was doing drugs and hanging out with Gustavo and Brianna all the time. This somewhat leads me to the conclusion that I should take up tripping as a regular activity again. But even using drugs isn't the same anymore. That's another thing about high school and that time period of my life; taking drugs was still new to me. Each time I tripped it was a profound experience even though I wasn't doing it too much then. Smoking pot was still an activity that made me and my friends giddy, feeling the excitement of doing something that our parents didn't know about the was illegal. We used to seek out parking lots without cameras where no one was likely to see us when we wanted to smoke. Now we smoke bowls while we're in the middle of rush hour traffic, on the highway, pretty much everywhere. It's more convenient this way, but it's lost some of it's charm. Throw into that mix the fact that for a couple of years I've been smoking pot almost every day and the nostalgia is gone. I will admit, however, that when I began smoking pot, I did like it, but it was still a bit disappointing to me. Maybe that's because I had imagined what the experience would be like for about three years before I actually tried it and after all that it just didn't meet my expectations. Then I tried cough medicine and I liked that better. It gave me some clarity the first time I tried it, it felt like I could breathe a lot easier. I felt more alive. Even then I got more into that than marijuana. I didn't really have hallucinations the way I had heard other people talking about it, but I did have some strange visions now and again. Mostly I just enjoyed the feeling of floating, suspended in some kind of gelatin substance that would keep me safe, keep me in my own head. I could just lay there and relax, enjoy the new feeling it gave me to focus on and mold to better the experience. I stopped using it for a year or so following the movie theater incident. I had steadily been increasing my dosage of DXM, anxious to experience all of the plateaus and to become as experienced with it as my friend was, the friend that introduced me to it. One night, thinking I could handle it, I took over a hundred miligrams than the last time I had used. This friend just happened to call and invite me to the movies and I explained to her that I had taken 360mg of DXM and couldn't drive, but her friend had a car and could pick me up, so I said sure. I'd never gone anywhere trippin' before and it sounded like fun. On the ride over, the cough medicine began setting in hardcore and my face started to go numb. I must have bought my ticket normally, but I have no memory of arriving at the movie theater. All I remember is sitting in the theater, ignoring the previews and alternately looking around with my distorted vision and keeping my head against the back of my chair with my eyes closed. I started to get the feeling I wasn't going to get through much of this movie. I watched the lights on the wall opposite us dim, so I knew they turned them down, but due to the drugs, the light closest to my chair still looked as brightly as it did before the movie started, if not brighter now that I could tell the rest of the theater was darker. I'm not sure how long I lasted through the movie, but somewhere near the beginning I told my friend that I wasn't feeling well and she called my mom to come and get me. As she was walking me to the bathroom, I threw up in the hallway. I felt much better after that, still fucked up but now I was more alert and I had a better understanding of what was going on. I knew I would be fine now, but when I told my mom what happened, she wasn't fully convinced, asking me several times if I needed to go to the hospital. I told her I just needed to sleep it off and I was right. Fast forward to a year and a half later and I'm dating a guy who's never smoked a cigarette, never had sex before me, and, more importantly, had never even tried marijuana. I will admit right up front that I introduced him to drugs and encouraged him to take them with me, but his brother had introduced him to alcohol long before I got there. One day, though, we were hanging out with the same friend who introduced me to cough pills and she had some pot and agreed to smoke my boyfriend up. After I felt he'd had a long enough trial-period with marijuana, I told him about cough pills and convinced him to try them with me.

Burned Out