| LEGAL DISCLAIMER
***THE CONTENTS OF THIS STORY ARE FICTIONAL***
***I DO NOT SMOKE POT OR PARTICIPATE IN ANY OTHER ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES***
Dear Xanga, sorry I haven't written in like three years, I kinda forgot about you. Anyway, I felt like journaling recent events and how better than blogging? I started drinking and smoking recently. Not smoking cigarettes. I had three drags of my friend's about a few weeks ago when he gave it to me to hold while he pumped gas. I threw up the entire rest of the car ride with my head out the window on the freeway. Now the smell of nicotine reminds me of throw up. I think its safe to say I'll never fall into the habit(good thing). No, I started smoking bud about two months ago and this is where our story begins.
I started Coastline Community College in September(2007) and soon found myself in the same predicaments I came across during high school. See, before I was even a freshman, I had an accident on my bicycle and managed to fracture my skull. Blood seeped through the crack and I ended up with a hematoma on the brain. I did not receive the proper testing, treatement, or knowledge from the doctors in my three day stay in the hospital. So when I got back into school and started having difficulty keeping up, I was caught off guard. Side affects from the Acquired Brain Injury(ABI), as they call it, included depression, memory loss, insomnia, social anxiety, and auditory verbal disnosia(plus more I'm sure I've just never been to all the doctors I was supposed to see). But the worst was insomnia. I'd go many nights out of the week without sleep even when I was dead tired. The exhaustion would make everything else worse and three quarters of the way into my freshman year I dropped out of high school. So as I started college and began to see these signs creep back up, I was desperate.
See I had never really given sleeping pills a chance. I hate putting super unnatural things into my body. I hate thier horrifying side effects. And I hate the doctors who perscribe them. And yet all my natural attempts to aid my sleep were failing, so when my roommate told me they perscribe medical marijuana to insomniacs and that he just happened to have some, I said I'd give it a try. Ironically, I stayed up all night 'cause everything was too damn interesting. Once my system got used to the THC though, I started to fall alseep like no other. Along with that, my depression started subsiding aswell as my social anxiety. Things looking less bleak than they had in over five years, I decided to keep smoking.
October rolled around and with it came October eighth, my birthday. Right at midnight the night before(the moment I officially turned nineteen) my brother, Goose, called to wish me a happy birthday. During our talk, I revieled to him that I had recently started smoking. He totally digged it and he kept saying I should come visit him in San Fransisco. My brother was always the party child in the family, as I was the more church-going, abstainant type. Well about a week after my bithday, my brother called again to tell me that a score of his friends we heading up to party with him that weekend and that he had booked me a spot in one of the cars. Stoked as I was, the drinking aspect that would be sure to go down worried me. I had never drunk alchohal before and I never intended to(the doctors said it would fuck up my already fucked up brain). I relayed this to my brother's friend on the way up and asked if anyone might be expecting me to drink, to which his response was, "To tell you the truth man, probobly."
Friday night: our first night in sf I remained abstainant from alchohal and simply got really high. I played my first game of beerpong, but made my partner, Joe, drink for me. Most of the night it was just my bro and his friends and roommates, but late into the night, girls started showing up. Unfortunately, I was way too high to be social, and after trying to ask for a name or two, I just lied down and passed out. This was a dehlema to me. And as the second night in San Fransico started I found myself alone in the kitchen with my brother asking him if I should drink. "I don't care, have as much as you like", was his answer. Joe walked in right as I was popping open a coors light. He stopped, open mouthed and whispered, "no way".
Seconds later, I was in the middle of a room of people as my brother called for silence and announced that the drink I was about to down was my first sip of alchohal in my life. The rest of the night was a blur of girls teaching me drinking games, being handed cups of disgustingly curious tasting concoctions, playing a propper game of beerpong with Joe, and eventually passing out in my borther's roommate's bed with two half-naked hotties. Definately up there on my list of funnest night of my life.
Three nights of the same basic idea later, we packed up and headed home. All those in our car were destroyed from the weekend and barely said a word the whole ride. I've been drunk three other times in the month I've been back. I may have changed in San Fransisco, but I still had the same friends when I got back(mostly kids I met through church) and only few people even know that I drink(a fact I happen to like). It doesn't feel like its too good for my head, just like the doctors told me. I don't really care though. Also the positive effects I was getting from weed are starting to wear off. Bad habits of staying out late have gotten my bad sleep pattern back into full swing, and depressing feelings are starting to creep in. I've stopped going to school. A few weeks ago I ran out of bud and became very depressed and ended up slicing my wrist open somethin bad. I really wanted to die. I still haven't found a job. Financial bullshit is closing in.
I don't honestly think that my choices as of late have been poor. I've had a fucking blast these past two months and I've gained invaluable expirience and character. My whole depression is the most lifted its been in the five years I've had it. But as the happines wears off and everything is starting to slide back into its miserable place, I can only relflect of the past two months as an illusion. Like a mirage in the desert, for one good, long, shining moment I thought my troubles were over and life could be normal again. Fuck. I appologize if you thought this story would have a happy ending. |
