Everything written here is true.
Only three years ago, I reluctantly began smoking marijuana. I was always curious, but my curiosity was always overridden by my personal values. As a kid, I placed great value in the strength of the human mind, and vowed never to poison my own with such meaningless things as alcohol and drugs.
As time passed, and I befriended more and more cannabis users, my curiosity grew. I did some research and found many sources claiming the drug to be largely benign, even when compared to its legal cousins, alcohol and tobacco. At the time, most of my nearby friends were users (though as far as I knew, none of my oldest friends were).
The first time I smoked was in no way memorable, yet I remember it clearly. I inhaled a few small breaths, waited a couple hours, and felt nothing. I had been warned beforehand that it might not work the first time, but the experience left me in doubt. I had left my comfort zone, overcome my misgivings, broken the law, and I still didn't know what the big deal was. The second session was much more satisfying.
I was slow to take up the new vice. The first time I bought weed, it sat peacefully in my closet for two weeks. It was months later before I bought my first pipe, and perhaps a year before I could confidently roll a joint.
Getting high in those early days was different than it is now. I would feel nothing for the first five to ten minutes, and then I would feel a cooling sensation on my nose and/or tongue. Mucus would form heavily in my throat, and I remember worrying that I might suffocate on it. It would take me as long as twenty minutes to feel any euphoric effects, which would then linger for hours. Now, however, the effects come almost immediately, and are much shorter lived.
I smoke lots of weed these days. In some ways, I know myself better when I'm high. I recognize my problems, my values, my strengths and my weaknesses. When I'm high, I know what I need to do to improve my life, but naturally, I do nothing. When I'm sober, my thoughts dwell on the simple task of getting high again. As a result, my life has become a paradoxical cycle in which I smoke weed so that I can think more clearly about giving it up.
I have become emotionally dependent on marijuana. I might burn as many as six joints on a bad day. If I have it, I will smoke it until it's gone. Once I run out, I will start drawing money from more important applications, including rent, bill payments and even food, in order to buy weed. And that is exactly what I would have done tonight, had I not taken the time to write this email instead.
Twenty four hours ago, I ran out. There's cash in my wallet, and a loud voice in my head screaming at me to get back to my routine. But I don't intend to. As of now, I quit.
