After the discussion about the D.A.R.E and Just Say No compaign on the Jefferson Sessions thread, I reflected on what drugs I consumed in the few years after I graduated those programs.
I did my first drug deal at the age of 12. I met this black guy in the middle of the street nonetheless, in broad daylight. If anyone witnessed this transaction, it was quite comical. He made me pat myself down--I was so confused as to why he was making me do this, and I'm sure the look on my face reflected that. He sold me a dime, and I went home and smoked it the first chance I got.
I had smoked a decent amount of times before this first drug deal, so the feeling of being high wasn't new to me. I went and laid down in my bed and shut my eyes. All of a sudden, I visualized a clock that I was strapped down to-- the second hand to be exact. I imagine my heart beat was what I was feeling, but my mind made me envision this clock. So, I'm going around on the clock, and then I hear, "it's time." Now, I am not sure if I said aloud "time for what?" But I definitely questioned it. The clock all of a sudden disappeared and the word, "DIE," appeared in bright red letters, and I shot straight up.
I wasn't right for the rest of the day. It really shook me. Nonetheless, this experience didn't deter me from experimenting more with drugs.
The following year, a friend's older sister enlightened us about Triple C's. For those of you that do not know what Triple C's are, it's Coricidin Cough and Cold OTC medicine. From what I was told by her, I learned that we could get fucked up on it. My friends and I saw the opportune to try it out on a school field trip. We each took 20 pills, and were awfully excited to see what would come of it.
That particular field trip just occupied the morning. The pills hadn't taken effect, and we all just wrote them off. How wrong we were to write them off was going to be apparent in the afternoon.
I'm sitting in my math class, and I start feeling weird--very fucking weird. I look around at my friends and I could tell they were experiencing the same weird feeling. It just escalated from there, until my teacher noticed me and the look on my face. She asked me if I was feeling alright, and told me to go to the bathroom and try and get myself together.
I didn't return to class. My next period was intramurals. What makes this story better is, my dad was one of the P.E teachers at this school. So, at this point I'm like fuck, he's going to know. Luckily my dad was not my P.E teacher, and my teacher happened to be out that day and there was a substitute. I walk into the gym, see the sub, and immediately head for the bleachers.
I had not been sitting down for more than a minute when the substitute came over to me and told me I could not sit out until I shot three baskets. Unwillingly, I got up. I was team captain of the basketball team, so this should have been an easy feat for me.
Wrong. The substitute passed me the ball, and I completely missed catching it. It rolled to the other side of the gym, near where my dad was sitting. I avoid eye contact, grab the ball and run back over to the goal. I shoot. Air ball, completely missed the goal. I wasn't far away either. So, I retrieve the ball and try again. Same shit happened.
I looked at the substitute and said, "I give up, I'm going back to the bleachers." I sat back down and reflected on how fucked up I was. About 20 minutes later, and with the high increasingly fucking me up more and more, my dad called me over to speak to me about something. I get up, and I completely fall straight on my face.
I surely thought the jig was up, and I would be found out. I got up and went over to him, and he asked what was wrong with me. I told him I didn't feel well, and asked him to please take me home. Surprisngly, he didn't question why I didn't feel good, and proceeded to take me home.
I slept for 16 hours that day. That was my first and only time taking Triple C's.
It was a ride.
my 15 year old feels are coming on strong