God theres so many to choose from
I don't think anyone wants to hear about me chasing and eventually getting chased by deer on Salvia, or jumping off a bridge into water in December; Stoned as hell. So i'm going to tell you a story that sounds like a mix between the 6th Sense and some generic drug movie, this is the scariest/eeriest thing i think i've ever experienced...
I was with some of my friends, and we had been smoking my friend's, lets call him J's Meth all day. No one really likes J we just hang around him because he's a dealer and always gives us drugs because he seems to be really lonely. J had severely tweaking for a couple days: needless to say we were all somewhat worried about him that day.
At around 8 or so went back to J's house and to my
surprise 
he had amassed an abundance of drugs in the short period of time since i last went to his house. Everyone dropped a couple hits of acid, and had a fairly regular trip, but whenever i looked over i would see him in the corner; doing something extremely compulsive. I couldn't tell what exactly, but it didn't worry anyone that much until the next day. at around 2 everyone, or so i thought, downed some bars to crash. It worked without fail and we were all out for the night. Except as i would later find out J would spend his night sitting in that same corner, only leaving to fuel his temporary state of madness by doing more meth and acid.
When I woke up: still feeling the after affects of the Acid and Xanax I contemplated taking the last bit of my meth to combat the sluggishness of the afforementioned xanax. Right as I was pulling out my bag I noticed there was paper scattered all over the floor of the corner where J was and stuffed the bag back into my pocket. Because I was worried about him, and realized that for him to be tempted to do more drugs was probably the worst thing in the world. I walked up to him and tried to talk to him and see what the pictures were. He replied immediately with, "NO! DON'T LOOK AT THAT! ...it's not time." I didn't really think that much about what he said.
I tried to leave a couple hours later. and when I made it to the door I saw J leave his corner for the first time all night, well now it was day. I asked him what he wanted and he just stood there and stared for about 5 seconds before handing me the piece of paper and saying, "look at this," as if it was a new object to me. It just had the number 34 written probably 100 times on it in a similar style to that of the the walls in The Shining. I took it with an uneasy feeling and left without saying a word.
On the walk home about halfway there i noticed a tall thin man with a green jersey on; I think it was a Celtics jersey, and guess what... it was number Thirty-
Fucking-Four! That was the scaredest, and most freaked out that i had been in a long time... at least until I had passed him by a foot or two.
"Hey, gimme your fucking money!" he said. I could feel a gun pressing below my ribs and my instinctive to run quickly died. I slowly got my wallet out of my pocket trying not to look as if i was making a quick grab for a gun. When I opened it I knew I was fucked, because i was staring at an empty wallet. I then remembered the bag of meth J had given me in my pocket: I had about half a gram left. I offered it to him while explaining that I had no money. I tried not to sound scared out of my mind but I think i failed at it. Because when he snatched it I bolted off and I don't think i stopped until I made it back to my house.
I can't stop thinking about that drawing, and how it not only should've warned me, but also in a less obvious way saved my life... Because if J hadn't spent all night drawing I wouldn't have been so inclined to not do the rest of my meth, and would've been shot for sure...
christ that was long