For about a year I smoked weed with a deliberate month between each sesh. Only after dangerously unhealthy and crippling stress from school–coupled with feelings of anxiety about school that I hadn't gotten before– within the last month I've smoked around once a week. Never more than three times a week. Many of my friends are daily users and many of them are zombies at this point– that's their irresponsibilty. Others, from the same group of friends, are incredibly motivated and interesting people who use weed as an effective tool, instead of as a pacifier from life or an excuse to act stupidly.

I know it can go wrong, and I know it can hurt me, but I'm ignorantly ignoring those consequences for incredible experiences that I would not have had ever in my life otherwise. To me, it's worth it, and I feel that I am responsible when I'm actually using it. But:

"Drugs are so good, they'll ruin your life."

Anyway, molly was fun but the comedown was crap, and I felt if I were to take it again in the near future I might develop some sort of addiction. It was a scary thought that I took as a fair warning to stay away. It was at a rave, coupled with my first-ever pot brownie. I felt that I was the most confident radiant exploding ball of energy in the room, confident especially with girls, but the whole time I knew it wasn't the real me and it was temporary, and it just wasn't worth it.

I didn't have a plan for the video and just filmed it to be able to play back to myself when I was sober, in case I didn't remember anything. It is essentially just me, desperately trying to stay on topic and explain what I just experienced.