The boy felt paranoid, afraid, lost in another world. Before hitting the joint everything had been normal for nearly 16 years. Now the world had transformed into a dark and scary place.
"Are the neighbors home? Why are we making so much noise?" he questioned irritably. His friends, lost in the bliss of the smoke, merely shrugged off his fears and insecurities without consequence.
This world he was in was real. It was like a dream. It was slowly moving in a constant motion, taking surreal turns. Words required effort to pronounce. "I" "The" "but" all required intense thought. Was this even english? What if the language he was speaking could be misinterpretted to reveal his previous activities? Everyone would know that he, the boy, was HIGH.
The devil himself was snickering. He had lured one of god's faithful sheep into the cage of marijuana. The only escape was...
There was no escape. Having realized that initiated a panic. What if this feeling would last forever? What if he was trapped in this realm of hell for all eternity because of one puff on a joint? The boy felt like crying, he put his hands on his face. His entire mind was cramping in agony.
Where am I? he thought. He was now in the woods. Where are the police? I hope they don't find me. his friends felt little sympathy as my current self would also feel.
The boy's mind was alive and it was eating away at every possibility of a possibility. Every solution of every possible algorithm of events had been preordained and he felt very little power over choosing which one would happen next. He knew for sure that he would get caught. There was no faking how he felt on the inside. It was almost as if someone had stamped the word, "MARIJUANA" on his forehead for the world to see. The boy felt shame and, at the end of the day would, very unfortunately, not regret his actions.
Having now moved to a game-room, he was watching a movie, drinking soda and enjoying the lengthy effects of the drug of the tetrahydrocannabinol sort. Having a clearer head, he managed to speak his mind, now joking about the way he felt earlier among his friends. Walking into his own home was not at all scary, but in fact fun, as the drug seemed to intensify positive emotions. He was glad to finally be home and know that his parents did not suspect the use of any criminal substances, that only thugs and hoodlums use.
"Are the neighbors home? Why are we making so much noise?" he questioned irritably. His friends, lost in the bliss of the smoke, merely shrugged off his fears and insecurities without consequence.
This world he was in was real. It was like a dream. It was slowly moving in a constant motion, taking surreal turns. Words required effort to pronounce. "I" "The" "but" all required intense thought. Was this even english? What if the language he was speaking could be misinterpretted to reveal his previous activities? Everyone would know that he, the boy, was HIGH.
The devil himself was snickering. He had lured one of god's faithful sheep into the cage of marijuana. The only escape was...
There was no escape. Having realized that initiated a panic. What if this feeling would last forever? What if he was trapped in this realm of hell for all eternity because of one puff on a joint? The boy felt like crying, he put his hands on his face. His entire mind was cramping in agony.
Where am I? he thought. He was now in the woods. Where are the police? I hope they don't find me. his friends felt little sympathy as my current self would also feel.
The boy's mind was alive and it was eating away at every possibility of a possibility. Every solution of every possible algorithm of events had been preordained and he felt very little power over choosing which one would happen next. He knew for sure that he would get caught. There was no faking how he felt on the inside. It was almost as if someone had stamped the word, "MARIJUANA" on his forehead for the world to see. The boy felt shame and, at the end of the day would, very unfortunately, not regret his actions.
Having now moved to a game-room, he was watching a movie, drinking soda and enjoying the lengthy effects of the drug of the tetrahydrocannabinol sort. Having a clearer head, he managed to speak his mind, now joking about the way he felt earlier among his friends. Walking into his own home was not at all scary, but in fact fun, as the drug seemed to intensify positive emotions. He was glad to finally be home and know that his parents did not suspect the use of any criminal substances, that only thugs and hoodlums use.
