In my youth I used to socialise with stoners. As I was so relaxed everyone who was one, mistook me for being a bird of the feather. I didn’t mind, as I had more in common with them than the ‘normals’. I rarely partook, but when I did it resulted in me giggling like a clown on three puffs and then sliding slowly into a supine position. It was almost like ‘other thinking’.

The stuff they smoked changed, they called it ‘Chronic’ and I abstained, preferring to have beer. Research was conducted and it was found this new stuff is low in Cannibinoids and high in THC (or the other way round?). Regardless, the shit that folks are smoking now, is not what they were smoking 20 years ago. Now it can trigger Psychosis. Fact.

Before I came to the end of the line with that set off friends, I warned them that they where throwing their lives away, that they would come to regret it when looking back through the past. The old lines I’m not addicted, I can stop when ever I want, yada, yada, washed over me.

What was it to me if they wanted to blast themselves into the stratosphere? Stoners typically don’t hurt anyone directly, but they all fail to see the damage they do indirectly, through supporting the drugs trade. Even so you can not judge, as people support pain and suffering on a daily basis just though drinking Coca Cola. Don’t believe me? Have a look at Mark Thomas’ research.

One day a friend accepted my challenge to stop smoking, in order to prove to me that she was not addicted. For a month she gave up. She did what she always did, ran a home, raised a child, worked as a physiotherapist, worked in the garden and was a loving wife. It seemed that stopping hadn’t affected her life for better or worse.

When she started again, as I knew she would, she saw what I saw. She understood then, that it was not about whether the drug was addictive or not. It was about how it dulled her. About how much money she spent. About how she smelt. About this drug not being the drug of the past but even if it was, it was about the drug stopping her achieving her full potential. That she was capable of even more, if she left the drug alone.

I don’t know if she still smokes, we don’t talk any more. Letting go of that set of friends was the hardest thing I’d had to do in many years. But it was happening whether I liked it or not, so why not on my terms?

I’m reminded about these times by some pain meds that I have for my back. They smash me out so I only take them when I need to, like last night. As I was sliding into sleep I thought about my book and mentally wrote a page or two. I can remember the visual, but I am too groggy to write properly.

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