To hell and not back

I'm no stranger to the darker side of life, most people know that, but for some strange reason I decided to test my limits during late January and all of February.

To begin with, I was never truly addicted to anything before. I would dip a toe in some cold debauchery but I would never truly submerge myself into it. It's not that I was scared, or that I knew better, it's just that I could not afford being addicted (hehehe).

But I learned the hard way that addiction can sneak up to you and you never really know when you enter it. You only learn you're addicted when you're already half way through and you suddenly decide to assess your situation. Those who are truly strong will identify this sooner than others, but I wasn't one of those people.

Pills were my white whale.

I was already walking a crooked path when it began. An old friend of mine decided to come back from University and she was not exactly the kind of person you were eager to let your parents meet. She was the kind of person that you know 100% would live a much more diverse and interesting life than most people you would meet. She knew people, she knew places, she knew things, and most importantly, she did a lot of drugs.

There are those who will have some inkling of a person in the back of their mind when they're with them. Maybe they are silently judging them and they are behaving as they are because they don't exactly respect them. Maybe I'm too naive but I prefer to think of people and their decisions as their own way to make a sculpture. They start off with the armature, making sure they have a good foundation by going to schooling or learning different trades. Then they make mistakes and unknowingly they're scumbling the sharper curves of their sculpture. Then there are those that try to fix those mistakes by going over it again or by completely taking off that part of the sculpture. But then there are those that continue mould themselves from their mistakes. I respect the people who embrace their mistakes more and learn from them instead of trying to hide them and be absolutely ashamed about them.

That's why I liked this old friend of mine, Lisa. I knew she made mistakes in her life, and I knew she regretted a lot of the things she did, but she continued doing the things she loved and letting it instead define her character instead of trying to fit in some mould that society has already preset for her.

My own personal belief is that mind altering substances and the sort are an experience akin to having sex when it comes to personal experiences. It's just something you have to try at least once to know if you like it or not. People who have lived rich full lives without drugs are plenty, but so are people who have lived rich full lives without sex. It's a different kind of wine that is frowned upon by the general public, but is recommended if you decide to enjoy life in a different perspective. 

But like all things, moderation is most important.

I don't blame Lisa, I blame myself. She was just a conduit for my own terrible deeds. 

First Night:
I had just found out that Lisa had returned two days before and she was already trying to contact me. I was already spending most of the time doing weed with a certain friend of mine during the night and that was tame in my standards. She had invited me to go raving with her and her friends during the weekend and though I felt that I shouldn't I went with them anyway.

The first night was Benzos, MDMA, Weed, and alcohol

Second Night:
It was a day after raving. I had hooked up with one of Lisa's friends and we went together to a dorm party an hour away from where I lived. I didn't drive there, we instead took public transit. Also we were on weed.
We met up with Lisa at the party and she gave me a cocktail of multi-coloured pills that I happily downed with some beer. Yes yes yes, the ride never ends.
It was during this time, a gathering of terrible people doing terrible things under a large roof, that Lisa decided to remind me that we used to date. It was a short things, only 3 months but I broke it off because she was far too wild for me. But that was 3 years ago.

Third Night:
This was the morning after the dorm party. Most of the night was heavy drinking and heavy smoking but I still ended up in a bed somewhere, but I was with Lisa. 
We walked together to a Subway and she decided to confront me with ideas of getting back together and shit that no-one should ever bring up during a hangover and a drug low.
Eventually we went to a park and we did some weed and some more Benzos. Yay. 
I went home at late afternoon and looked for a job. Then when it hit 2am I drove to my friends place and we smoked more weed while we talked about music.

Fourth Night:
Lisa was talking to me now as if we were dating again. It was a weird thing she did because she didn't want me flirting or playing around with her friends. I went with it because she was the one giving me free stuff - yes I am a man-whore.
Three days after the party, Lisa comes over to my place and asks if I can drive her somewhere. I said that I was too fucked up on weed to drive so I gave her my keys so she could do her groceries and go shopping. Then my best friend tells me that he forgot his wallet in my car.
I ended up telling Lisa to hurry the fuck up and bring the car back or drive to my friends place to drop off the wallet.
She ended up driving to my friends place and waiting there 30 minutes because we couldn't get a hold of my friend.
For some goddamn reason I got really angry and found out where my best friend was. He was with his other friends playing card games. So I drove there, threw his wallet at him and yelled at him in front of all his friends.


I am pretty sure that I did this position at least five times during this time

Fifth Night:
I had lost my best friend because I yelled at him and gave him shit for no real reason. I felt like absolute shit and Lisa was there to console me. It was during this time that a giant snowstorm decided to grace us with its presence and shit graciously all over our perfectly good roads. 
I decided I wanted to walk in the snow so Lisa and I dressed up in snow-hiking gear and walked 11 miles in the storm. We packed hard-boiled eggs, lots of water, two phones, half an ounce of weed, and a half filled bottle of pills.
Oh god it was the most beautiful walk ever. I'm not even going to try to describe it. Maybe in 10 years when I can write better. But writing it now would only sully the beauty of it all.

Sixth Night:
I decided to sleep more at Lisa's place now. We were waking up together and smoking and it gave me a reason to keep going. We were stuck indoors for the next two days because of the intense snow but we made it work. As the snow slowed down we decided to celebrate by going out and partying in clubs. I met up with Lisa's friends again and my old friend MDMA. 

Lisa and I couldn't sleep properly. We'd wake up 20 minutes into our sleep or something similar and then we couldn't sleep again. We were up for five days before I passed out for 16 hours. I'm not even sure that I was asleep for all 16 hours. I fell asleep hugging her as she played pocket trains on her iPhone and I woke up in a Tim Hortons 40 minutes away. I was panicked but I felt better as I saw Lisa come out of the bathroom. I never felt a fear as scary as waking up in a fast food restaurant at 2pm and not seeing anyone I know.
This was when I figured out I was addicted.

Where's the happy ending?

Honestly I don't know yet if there is a happy ending to this all. I just decided to write this down in hopes that it might help me decide what to do now. I don't think it has HAHA.

That's what my conscience is telling me right now. My conscience is a Chansey.