period off it. Especially skunk - my favourite. I'd enjoyed other drugs,
and much harder ones. All the way up to the big scary one - the crack
cocaine. Just once, but it was so damn nice. Too good and way too
addictive. It never crossed my path again but...well...anyway.
I need my brain back. I need to be at my best because I want to put my
all to mental health. I want to cut back on my crinking too.
But here's the thing. I'm pretty unhappy. Doing charity stuff doesn't
bring me joy. I got over that. It's more complicated than that. I feel
this is a bit of the hedonic treadmill theory in action but perhaps I'm
rationalising something well. Perhaps not. I got used to the smugness. I
just wanted to get on with my job.
My rationalisation for my cannabis addiction is it's the best
antidepressant I've ever know, apart from all the other things I've
taken that make me chemically happy.
It's a dark mistress though but it's advantages can out weigh the
disadvantages. I need to cut back or stop, at least if I want to stop
being a waster and make a difference.
I've become really miserable without it.
So I've found it hard to quit. I've cut down to twigs and rubbing old
baggies with papers. It's negigible what I get out of those but it's
just like a person finding it hard to come off an of antidepressant or
antianxyolitics. It's just a habit that's hard to break. My soul pain is
different and hardly dulled by the strongest anti-depressants available
on prescription.
Last Friday I went out and scored a small amount of weed - enough for a
joint but I made a few spliffarettes and shared with the guys I was
chatting with. A small amount. A failure. Tonight I've scored £5 of
skunk. It's dealer skunk too - the sort of stuff they give you to hook
you in.
Fuck.
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