You're telling me. As a decade long burnout trying to quit yet again (been quitting for 2 years now) it's still fucking torture sometimes after 2 weeks without burning. No physical symptoms just an extreme psychological attachment that cannot be remediated by anything but a bong rip. I've never felt anything remotely like this outside of the dope. I would get baked in an instant if it was available and I am wondering when this will end, when I will stop obsessing over it. I don't know if it will ever stop I will forever fiend. I need to get back to a book or a yoga posture because as soon as my mind isn't focussed on something it wonders right back to bong rip, bong rip, bong rip... FUCK.
Apart from these random intense feelings that come up once in a while I am feeling much better, as I have my brain back. Someone else has been in control and I've been trapped inside paying dealers like a sheep, all the while wanting to quit so bad but my central nervous system operates mechanically, so simplified by my addiction... and I follow my body to the drug dealers, watch myself through the other side of a thick, bulletproof glass window hitting that bong robotically, uncontrollably. On the pot I can stare at my wall listening to ambient music all day long, emptiness is all I know. My life was completely devoid of emotion apart from my strong feelings for marijuana. I'd smoke my stash inconceivably fast with the inner goal and desire to quit as soon as it ran out. Yeah right... how foolish, I had forgotten that I required it to feel calm, the inner turmoil was torture as soon as my bag ran dry. I'd be back to the mother fucking drug slinging scumbag in no time at all ("hey dude! Yeah sure man, I can help ya out! Another ounce? Surrrre buddy! Good stuff purple kush you'll love it!").
I am a hard worker contributing to society, brainwashed to make these dope growers rich who indesputably acquire a portion of my every paycheck. The wall between myself and pot is beginning to strengthen. I am seeing the concept of a joint in a new light... something completely unnecessary, highly addictive and bad for my mind and health. A complete waste of my infinite potential. My good old self is back behind the wheel and building that wall of defense up slowly but surely. I've come too far at this point, I can never go back. I'm beginning to feel like I'm out and it's wonderful, truly wonderful. I am reading incessantly, practicing yoga and meditating - doing what's important to me and wasting very little time, as I have long picked up the goal of becoming enlightened in this lifetime and this will never happen so long as I am an addict. To think that this drug deluded me to believe it was helping me advance spiritually, when I know that the #1 thing I need to do in order to progress is beat the junk. I have enough energy that I'm dreaming again at night, vividly - I lose touch with my dreams on the junk and dreaming is a splendid component of my existence. One little hit though, and it's back to square one.
I lose my voice on that junk, I lose the ability to speak my mind. I'm trapped inside and the only things worth saying are related to picking up pot. Otherwise, I do not give a fuck and everyone pisses me off and I wish to be alone. It literally makes me retarded. I am back with a mother fucking vengeance and a smile on my face that has absolutely nothing to do with the amount of drugs I have or what I took today, which was a nice warm cup of matcha green tea.
I've seen this junk fry so many brains it's rediculous, and they arn't even aware of it. If only my braindead stoner friends could be honest with themselves as well, it's truly sad to see... I never realized it myself until I took psilocybin mushrooms for the first time, went to smoke a joint and backed out. I've never seen this shit the same way since.