High Thread - Page 373

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a trip...
XD

Oh, and in response to those last responses:

I will be a little honest here, I use to sell weed big-time, so I was always hooked up. It was probably family ties, but who knows what it could of been, there was just large amounts of it everywhere and I never really liked how it smelled or anything until I smoked weed for the first time at a party

Then, finally, those warehouses full of weed and those 15 pound bales ceiling high finally meant something to me.

I started to smoke, but, then slowly I started to party more. When I would throw parties, though, I would just get a wal-mart bag full of weed and spread it out on the table and everyone would just roll up joints of some dank sticky-icky shit and smoke all night. Weed gets me so crazy(everyone gets a different trip) that it's more like an upper for me. The more I smoke, the more I feel like I'm flying on that psychosis plane higher and higher and it won't let me go to sleep or eat or anything.

After a while though, people started wanting weed, instead of just partying with it. So, that's when I became a dealer.

Upon becoming a dealer, the social stress and anxiety put a lot of pressure on me(and also moving 400-500 pounds of weed and maybe 3-4 wetbacks from city to city really fucked up my emotional state), so I would smoke all day, everyday, just receiving calls like any business. I had an office(dope house), networks(cellphone), associates(close friends), clients(addicts), brokers, suppliers, employees(hustlers), and competition.

It went on like this for about almost 3 years before I started noticing the cops on my tail. I was slowly realizing how BIG I had become.. the entire town I lived in knew me for what I dealed, when I dealed it. All towns and cities in a 200 mile radius around me know me as a hook-up and still occasionally call me(but I am not big time anymore, I am just some random guy now) a "kingpin." There were NARC officers planning 90 miles away to raid my house according to my friend who works with the law. I started feeling the pressure of the cops, and I was getting stopped everytime I left my house.

But, long story short, during all the paranoia and anxiety, it led me to smoke a lot of weed. A LOT, no exaggeration. When I would go and beat up someone at their house in front of their parents or throw a beer bottle at a cop car or just start some illegal shit up, I'd run like a mother fucker back to my 'safehouse' and just smoke joint after joint, in a small room, getting intoxicated with the smoke, almost everyday, for about 3 years. I would have people come and go, I was literally a drive-tru, and in order to even talk to people I needed a joint in my mouth. Eventually, I started realizing that I was smoking excessively(this one time I ran out of weed and I freaked out, about a year in), so I would start counting how much of my supply I would smoke. At first it was around 5 to 10 joints, I NEEDED at least 2 joints to get me 'buzzed', 5 joints to get me 'high', 10 joints to get me 'stoned.' It was almost like beer. Then, it started to worsen, growing from 10 joints to 30. Smoking 30 a day sounds extreme, but back then, it was business baby. After a while, I would lose track of how many joints I smoked(because I too stoned to find and count all the roaches) so I started a tally of them on a notepad. A year in the dope game, I was 17, I would have to smoke 10 joints to get high, 2 years in, on my 18th birthday, I smoked 121 joints from 10 p.m. at night to 6 a.m. in the morning. That's when I realized I had incredible tolerance and that now, in order to feel 'anything' from weed, I needed to smoke huge blunts, cones, doobies, huge bongs, and pounds and pounds of weed and mountains of paper.

It became the norm. My fingers always smelled of weed, like permanently(they still do actually, even though I haven't smoked for 2 months), I was always stoned, my eyes wouldn't even get red anymore and I could sit in a room for 12 hours smoking joint after joint after joint, which was basically 'my office', without getting red eyes and still be able to function normally and go to school and have a social life and whatnot. It started to become insane, 120-150 joints a day everyday. No kidding, I have the tally marks on my walls and everything. We'd have to go buy hemp paper packets by the dozens, we'd finish those 50 leaves in a few hours or so. An OZ of the dankiest shit you could find would get me a bit buzzed, I'd need at least a QP of some california medical shit to get 'wasted.' All I ever dealt was sticky-icky chronic, and after a while I became needy and addicted. It started getting obsessive, I was always thinking about weed. I stopped selling so I could smoke it myself, and slowly I stopped the business. I started getting less weed, and then I started to notice that I was getting these weird chest pains, so I started to just smoke all by myself, 70 joints hand-rolled in a day, from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. Then, I started to feel the chest pain even more, so slowly, it went from 100 to 70 to 20 to maybe 2 joints now, 3 years later.

So, 3 years later, it went from 50-70 joints a day(when I was 17) to 100-150 joints a day(when I was 18) to 70-100 joints a day(when I was 19). Then, when I turned twenty, it slowly started to dawn on me that I have a problem with my chest. Like, there's something wrong, I'm sure of it. Everytime I smoke it would feel like a panic attack, like I was going to die. I would try to smoke and sleep, only to stay up thinking if I was going to die that day(or maybe I was on an insane trip). So, naturally, I cut back to about half a joint a day, but the chest pains remained, no matter if I cut back on the HUGE amounts of weed I use to smoke.

Now, I just smoke maybe one joint and I'm flying off walls and bouncing and laughing and my eyes get all red and crazy, when before I would smoke 150 and barely even smile.

This is the story of a stoner gone wrong.