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Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Kurt Kobain, Janis Joplin


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I'm none of these people.

 

Hell, I may not even be like them. I try to be artistic, cutting edge. The result is usually less-than. I've idolized these people my whole life, for their revolutionary ideas towards art and life. Their insatiable pursuit of knowledge, passion, and expression. In my heart though, I believe that the universe had spared me what Kurt Kobain considered his reason for existence, and any fan knows the famous quote made famous by Neil Young, and recited by Kurt himself, "it's better to burn out, than to fade away." In my heart, I believe I was destined for a slow fade.

 

Growing up, I was the chubby, funny kid. Who used comedy to deflect my own self-hatred, and the hatred given to me by other people. I also had a very serious, very violent side to me; that I cannot give any real evironmental reason for having. I remember as a child, having a crush on a girl by the name of Gloria, in 1st grade. During recess, Gloria was playing with another boy, his name was Kyle. He was a more popular child from school, he was the prototypical blonde haired, blue eyed kid. It had infuriated me that she paid him attention, but me none; so with both hands, I grasped his blonde hair, and proceeded to whip him around by it, throwing him to the ground. Gloria was quite disturbed by this, and rushed to him to comfort him, which in my mind, understood that even though I dominated him as a young boy, it wasn't enough for her to see that I was the more powerful. This way of rationalizing, is primal, instinctive. None of which a nomal-thinking six year-old boy should be thinking about, or much less, acting on.

 

Memories like these, plague my mind on a day-to-day basis. The harsh reality of life as a human is something I'm always thinking about. The constant struggle to assert power, and dominate others. Something that facsinates me, even if what I believe the motivation, is what I consider to be an obsolete tool used by humanity to propigate it's own species. I'm sharing this anonymously, because I cannot share these thoughts with even my closest friends. My closest friends, feel as far away to me as the Earth does to Sun.

 

 

They've seen me at my worst, and abandoned me.

 

While driving, I was having a conversation one night about what friendship is, mind you, he was high as a kite, and drunk as a skunk. He told me, "...friendship is a symbiotic relationship...". In his belief, friendship would be a lot like the relationship between a bird and a Rinoceros, or any larger, less mobile animal. In return for protection from larger predators, the birds are allowed (really, the Rino can do nothing about it really) to eat parasitic organisms off of the Rinoceros's back, and get a free ride. This shocked me actually, because in my mind, the friend that just explained that what he thought friendship was like, was an overall optimistic, good-natured guy, telling me something Charles Darwin would have trouble stomaching, having to evaluate his own friendships towards people. I for one, don't think of friendship that way, at least consciously. Then again, I've never given it much thought. The segue to this instance being, I was being an emotional parasite to my friends. Sapping them of willingness to cooperate with me, because I was endangering them to be revealed as pot users, and I also put them in a comprimising situation with them and the police, that could have landed my friends with drug charges, even if it wasn't my intention.

 

Cannibus has never been good to me. It's debatable whether it's the pot, or if it's just me. Well, isn't it always just you? If someone overdoses on heroin, no one ever blames the heroin, right? (and I'm sorry for being insensitive to those users who have actually overdosed on heroin). They blame the person, but the reality is, the heroin actually depresses the nervous system. Cannibus hasn't been shown to have any effect on the nervous system. To my knowledge, humans have no cannabanoid receptors in the part of the brain that controls the nervous system.

 

I can't blame the pot, I can only blame myself, right?

 

The brownie had about 2 grams, give or take. It was delicious, aromatic. I love the smell of cooked marijuana. The thought of thought had crept into my mind again. Taking me to a paranoid place. Stillness is death in my baked mind, the Matrix is real, and another bad trip is happening. "It's you, not the weed". Keep yourself occupied. I ask myself, "why?". My mind races, it's getting harder to block out the thoughts, the master computer is on to me. Agents are coming, in the form of police officers, my heart races 911 beats per second, I can't control it. Unplugged. Death is coming. They arrive, guns strapped to their sides, my friends rush to hide. Their weed, it's me. Poeticly paranoid. What? What? Paranoia is what? I've heard many things, it's a "heightened state of awareness". Is awareness objective? Can a homeless man be aware of his state, can he be aware of the lifestyle of the man whos change he takes? It doesn't matter now, they've got me, I've confessed, "I ate some pot brownies", I didn't say that. "But you just said that you did". It's the day after Christmas, we're not looking for trouble, but the way he's acting, I've never seen someone on weed act like that. Pumping me full of drugs to disillusion my brain, "he's a strong one" I remember, all clear as window on the albulance, outlooking the night sky, it's just a bump in the road. Oh boy am I high. My heart is racing, death is near. I'm being taken to be plugged back in, to the system, to aleviate my fear. So many questions, plague my mind, will they let me survive, with the knowledge I've got inside? Paranoia, will eat you alive. The scariest part, the beeping of machines, to the thought of my thoughts, telling me to stop. Recognizable faces, from the past, in different roles, like struggling actors. I think I know you. DON'T LIE TO ME, I KNOW YOU! I'VE SEEN YOU BEFORE! I'VE SEEN ALL OF YOU BEFORE! We're all connected, the security guard, looks at me when I look at him. I look away, how does he know to look at me, when I look at him? Why are these machines beeping when I have these thoughts? When I'm by myself, I'll get unplugged.

 

I'm finally released from the hospital, the nurse wanted me out of my room. They pumped me full of drugs I didn't want. Probably to sedate me. I don't know what they were. This is my final experience using cannibus.

 

Getting a little high, gives me so much paranoia that the machines will unplug me because they know how it effects my state of being.

 

 

This is not rational thinking.

 

This is possible.

 

I don't know how much longer I can deal with the amount of anxiety I have on a daily basis.

 

It started about five years ago, what I've read other users experience as a break down. Where one has a moment of enlightenment, followed by the harsh realization of one's own flawed self. The nervous system kicks in, but weed doesn't stimulate the nervous system by default. It's me.

 

Anyways, back to the story. 5 years ago, had a real breakdown, where I was suicidal. I got high with some friends, and we all went out to a bar. When high, I am extremely paranoid (if you haven't guessed from reading the crazy hands-on experience I've described in that non-sensical paragraph about 6 or 7 lines up), and them screaming in the back of my car made it extremely worse. They wouldn't just shut up, and let me concentrate on drivng. I guess I hate bars, at least being high, I hated bars. I also hated my friends, well you know what. I guess I hated me. I hated the guys playing pool at the bar, ignoring their girlfriends, almost like they were more into each other, than their girlfriends. I hated the way alcohol made me feel. Back to their house, hate, hate, hate..."Oh crap, I think I'm going to die". Not a good night.

 

5 years, CT scan, Stress test, Cardiogram, scan, whatever. You're fine!

 

I don't feel fine...

 

 

 

 

- I Hope you can give me a warm welcome, I may be here a while.

 

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hi twenty-seven, welcome.  i just joined yesterday, but i already am glad to say welcome to you,

because, as you wrote, you have obviously been through a lot. i look forward to hearing your input on new posts.  

 

ive also had crazy anxiety while drugged up in an ambulance, and had the feeling that i had to blame myself and not the drugs.  

thank you thank you for mentioning that, because its something i try to explain to my family and friends a lot.  

yes, the pot made me paranoid, but there had to be something wrong with me to begin with

that would cause me to have drug-induced psychosis right?

 

i cant believe you ate a brownie that had 2 grams. i remember having .5 in a firecracker (peanut butter and weed 

baked together between two crackers), and being o so fucked up.  i just remember people looking

like they were from the incredibles, cartoonish, and even now i sometimes revert back to thinking

people look like cartoons when i stare at someone for too long.  

 

anyway you are a wonderful writer and extremely insightful.  glad youre here.

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Welcome to Crazyboards.  Please read the User Agreement when you get a chance.  (I ask all new members to do this---I'm not singling you out.)

 

I loved Janis Joplin----she was my favorite singer and I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard that she died.

 

Well, enough about me.  I hope you like hanging out here and please contact a moderator if you have any questions.

 

olga

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