Let me start off by saying that I am new here and this is my first post so if this is in the wrong section, mods I truly apologize.
I found this site while doing some google homework on the effects of Crack Cocaine. I have read a ton of threads tonight regarding cocaine use and paranoia. Some are funny, some are sad and some are downright scary. See, I am a fellow drug user, I have been clean for nearly 3 years now and as it was when I was doing drugs, being clean is my choice for now as well. I wanted to talk to the community about my personal experiences with crack cocaine and maybe offer some help to people struggling with paranoia, shame, guilt, or drugs in general.
I first got turned on to rock when I was 16 years old, after the third or fourth time I was pressured into doing it, I knew I was going to have a problem with it. I moved out the house I was in at the time, but I kept the number for the dope man and continued to get high at least once a week. Back in those days though I could spend $$ and it would last me a couple days. It gave me the most intense high I have ever experienced. I could stay up all day and night functioning like a super hero. Throughout my teen years I was constantly bounced around between parents but no matter where I ended up I made sure to make some connections to get rock.
By the time I hit my early 20's I was skating bills here and there to get high instead. I would put off the electric company or send a bad check to the landlord in an effort to spend more and more on my drug habit. Don't get me wrong, during all of this time, it was completely normal behavior in my mind. I was having the time of my life and getting high was still giving me that rush of excitement I was looking for plus not paying my bills was creating "exciting" situations for me to overcome and flexed my creativity muscles. Then one day it all changed, getting high was not the same and it would never be the same again.
See, I met this woman while I was walking back from dunkin donuts at 3am. She explained to me that she was trying to get some gas money - blah - blah - blah. I knew what time it was, I told her "I can't help you with gas money, but if you want to smoke, I can hook you up if you know someone to get it from." She was more than excited to take me to the local dope hole to score $$$ worth of crack. We went back to my apartment and started smoking, everything was cool at first, same as it always had been. Then, out of no where, she freaked out and started fidgeting around and asking me if I could hear the noises she was hearing. I laughed it off, but after about 5 minutes straight of this non-sense I realized she was serious. She got up and started looking out of my windows and peephole in my door. Then she started turning off the lights only to turn them on 30 seconds later. Eventually, sadly, after about 10 minutes of this idiotic behavior I too heard noises, all kinds of noises. I could hear foot steps walking through my apartment, I could hear knocks on my door, I could hear someone trying to open my window.
By sun up I was kicking this crazy woman out of my apartment, when I opened the door to escort her out I saw a cop car in the parking lot across the street from my apartment. The cop was parked at a grocery store that was not set to open for another 2 hours and he was positioned directly across from my apartment unit. This led me to immediately slamming and locking my door shut, leaving the crazy lady to fend for herself. I pushed my couch across my living room and wedged it against my front door in an effort to slow the cops raid down a little and give me time to make it out of my apartment via the back door. Nearly 5 hours later I found myself sitting against the back of the couch making sure it was firmly braced against my front door, you know, to prevent the SWAT team from entering my residence. I finally built up the courage to look outside of the window only to find the cop car was gone. I drank my last beer and made a solid effort to pass out. When I woke up later that afternoon and realized what I had done I laughed at myself for being so silly. I showered, got dressed, and went to my job like nothing ever happened.
When my next paycheck came I decided to pick up some more crack. I met someone earlier in the week that likes to party as well and he had a solid guy to order from. I ended up getting $$$ again to test the waters. We went back to my new "buddy's" place to rock it out for the night. As soon as I took my first hit - instant paranoia set in. I started to ask myself how well I really knew this guy and started to feel it was too convenient to just meet someone randomly that shares the same drug of choice as me. I got really quiet in his house and felt really insecure. I asked him to close his blinds and then I just got really quiet. The guy was clearly freaked out by my behavior and I was visibly paranoid as shit. I found myself getting up and looking out of his blinds constantly while he laughed it off. Finally the end of the night came and I mustered up the courage to walk the two blocks back to my apartment. The whole walk home I was very tense, my shoulders were tightened up to the point that they hurt and I was staring directly forward power walking, ready to run for my life if needed. Again though, the next day, I laughed off this behavior and came to the conclusion that I just wasn't meant to party with people.
My next paycheck comes around and I figure this time I am going to go a little crazy and "treat" myself to a good time, because hell after the last two times, I earned it. I was smart enough to get the number of the dealer of the last guy I partied with and I called him up and ordered $$$. Well, I spent that night rearranging all of the furniture in my apartment in an effort to keep the Feds, Swat, and DEA from raiding my apartment. After my place was "secure" from breaching attempts from the police I tried to enjoy a little tv. It was early in the morning by now and the only things on were those silly infomercials, so I figured that would have to do. I watched them for about 30 minutes, although I was never really watching them, I was actually staring at the screen of the tv while I listened (with my super human hearing powers) for the police, see I was clever like that, they would never know I knew they were coming because I wasn't looking for them...right? Anyway, I noticed the guy on tv was talking to me about my life. He was literally yelling at me - telling me I better not do drugs, screaming that I was going to get into trouble for doing drugs. That night/morning ended up with me having a major panic attack and hiding under my bed for a few hours while clutching a kitchen knife.
At this point in my use of crack cocaine I had realized that it didn't matter what I did, how much I did, who I was with, etc. The problem was that I was frying my brain, but by now I was too far along to quit. I spent the next decade of my life running down streets screaming and trying to waive off red laser dots from snipers in trees, clutching kitchen knives after each and every hit, sneaking around my various apartments looking for bugs (wires) in the walls and appliances. I ended up seeing a police surveillance van in my yard one night so I ran out of my house and got in my car...it was like a scene out of scary movie, I couldn't get the key in the door - I kept dropping the keys - it was pathetic, when I finally got in my car there was someone in the backseat so I accelerated at a high rate of speed while looking in the backseat, convinced they had somehow lifted the seat and got underneath it, so of course the only thing left to do was to take out my trusty kitchen knife and stab my back seat to shit, the major issue with this idea of mine was ahead of me, there was a 90 degree turn that I never saw coming and I ended up putting my car in a ditch. The next day they found my car, engine on, door wide open, my back seat knifed to shit. When the cops contacted me, I explained that I had a crazy ex girlfriend that still had a key to it but refused to give them her name because I still loved her and didn't want to see her get into trouble. I spent the latter part of my 20's convinced each time I got high that I was part of some government experiment on drug use. I literally felt captive each and every time I smoked, convinced that I was being monitored and recorded while using drugs, knowing that I had to "play it cool" because if they found out that I knew, they would kill me...whoever "they" were.
My breaking point came for me one day when I living in a beat down trailer in some shitty trailer park, yes, that's what I had reduced myself to, one step above being homeless. My landlord came by to pick up the rent, the same rent I had spent a few hours earlier with the dope man. When he came to the door and knocked, I just snapped. I opened the door and shot past my landlord with break neck speed. I had to make my way to the main road, because I knew that "they" couldn't kill me on a public road in front of witnesses. I had a journey ahead of me though because the main road was about 100 yards from my trailer. During my run to the road all of my neighbors seemed to exit their trailers at the same time, all staring at me. They were each clutching walkie talkie radios saying things like "Subject spotted","He's on the move","Take him now", etc. I scrambled and zigzagged through various yards and when I looked back my landlord was on my ass in his truck, he flew right past me and skidded out in front of me, as if to block me. In one last burst of energy, I juked my way around his truck and made it to the main road. For whatever reason, I just stopped running at that point and felt 100% safe. To this day I sit and ask myself what really happened that day. See the thing to remember about paranoia and psychosis is that perception is reality. I know something terrible happened in that trailer park, but to what degree or what was real and what was not, I'll never know for sure.
I left all of my belongings and ended up homeless, smoking crack here and there, pending how much money I could hustle or get doing day labor of course. I knew it was all over for me. I knew that the line had been crossed that night the crazy lady freaked me out and created a pattern of me associating smoking rock with paranoia and paranoia behavior. See I finally realized that these things were programmed into my smoking experience. I could never smoke again without clutching a knife, checking windows, crawling around my furniture like a monkey. People on coke develop habits when using, some people crawl the floor looking for that magical $$$ piece of rock they know for a fact they "misplaced", some people pick at their skin convinced there is bugs on them, some people peek out of peep holes, etc. These are things that happen to users for various reasons, but once you do them once, they become second nature with your usage of cocaine. If you picked the floor last time, expect to pick it again and this time you might (for whatever reason) throw in peeking out of the window. I knew this one hooker that would read the bible, aloud, loudly...just sit there reading random passages for whatever reason.
I finally went to a upscale rehab clinic. The director of the program was a family friend and made it his personal mission to never see me do drugs again. I completed the program successfully after 90 days and then started my long journey of going to meetings and all that jazz. Well, it didn't work out that way for me. I ended up relapsing about 40 days out of rehab. What I learned from this was I didn't have a support network, hell I never did. From the time I was a young teenager I was being tossed back and forth between parents. I never had anyone in my life from the time I was 16 that didn't want to use me for money or drugs. Being in rehab created a situation that was not true to my reality after I left. There was no one to go to movies with or play tennis with, etc. I left alone, with a small group of people from meetings that had their own issues and responsibilities. What rehab did teach me though, was that I could quit and the world would not implode upon itself. I spent the last few years on and off of drugs. I haven't gotten high for the past 3 years nearly, partly because I have a family now and my kids mom is drug free, partly because I don't have the same numbers to get it anymore, partly because the thought of purchasing it scares the shit out of me, partly because I know what's waiting for me when I take that first hit, but mainly because I am just too tired to do it anymore.
My life has not improved greatly, I have had no burning bushes or epiphanies. I am an average person going through the daily grind of making money to pay bills. People knock drug users, especially when they hear the word "crack" because it's such a powerful word with such a dirty association but I can safely say that up until my snap from reality that seemed to last nearly a decade, it was the best time of my life. I mean yes, I have a daughter, and I love her and her mother and that was probably one of the most important things that I have ever done in my life and I wouldn't trade them for the world, but my life is no better or worse than it was when I first started using. I want people to know that it doesn't "get better" because life is pretty shitty for most people, you won't wake up happy as bells, dancing down the street. If your life was shit before drugs, don't relapse because it's shit after you quit and if you're on drugs now, don't quit because you think your life will be great when you do, you'll only be setting yourself up to relapse.
Don't take my wording for something it's not though. Don't get me wrong here, life is great, if that is your perception of it. I find it rather boring, I always have, so naturally being off drugs doesn't really "thrill" me. In essence, if you were an asshole before you started getting high, expect to be an asshole when you stop. If you hated the way the world was before you took that first hit, you're going to hate it just the same when you put down the pipe. I think that's important for everyone to know, because I struggled my first year a lot with it, I was super depressed because I thought my parents were going to be accepting of me finally and all my friends were going to come back into my life and the world wasn't ran on money anymore but instead sunshine and unicorns. I realize now that I am just a normal guy with normal problems, no longer do I skate bills for dope, I now do it to get diapers and formula. No longer do I ignore the electric for some rock, now I am ignoring it for our next car payment. I don't look down on people for what they choose to do, I think in some form or fashion that everyone alters their perception in one way or another, be it religion, drugs, alcohol, sex, food, money, luxuries, etc...we are all playing the same game and it's simple, change our view of the world to make it a more comfortable place for you to personally survive in.
My only advice is that if you do cross that line I crossed, think about the damage done at that point. There is a point of no return when it comes to cocaine and psychosis, a point in which that feeling you feel will never go away. I don't wish that on anyone, not the man that originally turned my teenage self on to crack, not the crazy lady that sent me into a world of hell. Crack is cocaine cooked in baking soda or ammonia, nothing more. It brings people to their knees quicker because it enters your blood stream quicker and gets you that train running through your head feeling faster, but it doesn't last as long, so it has more addictive tendencies. People throw the word around like it's pedophile or sex offender bad, I think that's rather ignorant. Each drug has their downsides and poor qualities about them, feel free to look up all the charts of deaths related to different drugs and alcohol, the stats are quite surprising. So don't feel shamed about what you do because that's just going to lead to further use. Enjoy your ride, take it easy, and when the shit hits the fan be strong enough to put down the pipe, I can personally promise you that the world will not implode upon your head if you don't get high today. I never make promises to myself to not get high ever again, I don't want to feel the guilt of relapse, I just promise myself I won't get high today. We all live with the decisions we make though and as free people it's up to us how we choose to alter our reality, will I smoke again....I think if I found the right person I could trust 100% and was in an environment I considered safe I possibly would hit it again, but I would do so with the knowledge and experience of abstinence, knowing I don't have to throw my life away to get high.
Thanks for taking the time to read this post and I hope I made some form of sense out of all of my thoughts.
I found this site while doing some google homework on the effects of Crack Cocaine. I have read a ton of threads tonight regarding cocaine use and paranoia. Some are funny, some are sad and some are downright scary. See, I am a fellow drug user, I have been clean for nearly 3 years now and as it was when I was doing drugs, being clean is my choice for now as well. I wanted to talk to the community about my personal experiences with crack cocaine and maybe offer some help to people struggling with paranoia, shame, guilt, or drugs in general.
I first got turned on to rock when I was 16 years old, after the third or fourth time I was pressured into doing it, I knew I was going to have a problem with it. I moved out the house I was in at the time, but I kept the number for the dope man and continued to get high at least once a week. Back in those days though I could spend $$ and it would last me a couple days. It gave me the most intense high I have ever experienced. I could stay up all day and night functioning like a super hero. Throughout my teen years I was constantly bounced around between parents but no matter where I ended up I made sure to make some connections to get rock.
By the time I hit my early 20's I was skating bills here and there to get high instead. I would put off the electric company or send a bad check to the landlord in an effort to spend more and more on my drug habit. Don't get me wrong, during all of this time, it was completely normal behavior in my mind. I was having the time of my life and getting high was still giving me that rush of excitement I was looking for plus not paying my bills was creating "exciting" situations for me to overcome and flexed my creativity muscles. Then one day it all changed, getting high was not the same and it would never be the same again.
See, I met this woman while I was walking back from dunkin donuts at 3am. She explained to me that she was trying to get some gas money - blah - blah - blah. I knew what time it was, I told her "I can't help you with gas money, but if you want to smoke, I can hook you up if you know someone to get it from." She was more than excited to take me to the local dope hole to score $$$ worth of crack. We went back to my apartment and started smoking, everything was cool at first, same as it always had been. Then, out of no where, she freaked out and started fidgeting around and asking me if I could hear the noises she was hearing. I laughed it off, but after about 5 minutes straight of this non-sense I realized she was serious. She got up and started looking out of my windows and peephole in my door. Then she started turning off the lights only to turn them on 30 seconds later. Eventually, sadly, after about 10 minutes of this idiotic behavior I too heard noises, all kinds of noises. I could hear foot steps walking through my apartment, I could hear knocks on my door, I could hear someone trying to open my window.
By sun up I was kicking this crazy woman out of my apartment, when I opened the door to escort her out I saw a cop car in the parking lot across the street from my apartment. The cop was parked at a grocery store that was not set to open for another 2 hours and he was positioned directly across from my apartment unit. This led me to immediately slamming and locking my door shut, leaving the crazy lady to fend for herself. I pushed my couch across my living room and wedged it against my front door in an effort to slow the cops raid down a little and give me time to make it out of my apartment via the back door. Nearly 5 hours later I found myself sitting against the back of the couch making sure it was firmly braced against my front door, you know, to prevent the SWAT team from entering my residence. I finally built up the courage to look outside of the window only to find the cop car was gone. I drank my last beer and made a solid effort to pass out. When I woke up later that afternoon and realized what I had done I laughed at myself for being so silly. I showered, got dressed, and went to my job like nothing ever happened.
When my next paycheck came I decided to pick up some more crack. I met someone earlier in the week that likes to party as well and he had a solid guy to order from. I ended up getting $$$ again to test the waters. We went back to my new "buddy's" place to rock it out for the night. As soon as I took my first hit - instant paranoia set in. I started to ask myself how well I really knew this guy and started to feel it was too convenient to just meet someone randomly that shares the same drug of choice as me. I got really quiet in his house and felt really insecure. I asked him to close his blinds and then I just got really quiet. The guy was clearly freaked out by my behavior and I was visibly paranoid as shit. I found myself getting up and looking out of his blinds constantly while he laughed it off. Finally the end of the night came and I mustered up the courage to walk the two blocks back to my apartment. The whole walk home I was very tense, my shoulders were tightened up to the point that they hurt and I was staring directly forward power walking, ready to run for my life if needed. Again though, the next day, I laughed off this behavior and came to the conclusion that I just wasn't meant to party with people.
My next paycheck comes around and I figure this time I am going to go a little crazy and "treat" myself to a good time, because hell after the last two times, I earned it. I was smart enough to get the number of the dealer of the last guy I partied with and I called him up and ordered $$$. Well, I spent that night rearranging all of the furniture in my apartment in an effort to keep the Feds, Swat, and DEA from raiding my apartment. After my place was "secure" from breaching attempts from the police I tried to enjoy a little tv. It was early in the morning by now and the only things on were those silly infomercials, so I figured that would have to do. I watched them for about 30 minutes, although I was never really watching them, I was actually staring at the screen of the tv while I listened (with my super human hearing powers) for the police, see I was clever like that, they would never know I knew they were coming because I wasn't looking for them...right? Anyway, I noticed the guy on tv was talking to me about my life. He was literally yelling at me - telling me I better not do drugs, screaming that I was going to get into trouble for doing drugs. That night/morning ended up with me having a major panic attack and hiding under my bed for a few hours while clutching a kitchen knife.
At this point in my use of crack cocaine I had realized that it didn't matter what I did, how much I did, who I was with, etc. The problem was that I was frying my brain, but by now I was too far along to quit. I spent the next decade of my life running down streets screaming and trying to waive off red laser dots from snipers in trees, clutching kitchen knives after each and every hit, sneaking around my various apartments looking for bugs (wires) in the walls and appliances. I ended up seeing a police surveillance van in my yard one night so I ran out of my house and got in my car...it was like a scene out of scary movie, I couldn't get the key in the door - I kept dropping the keys - it was pathetic, when I finally got in my car there was someone in the backseat so I accelerated at a high rate of speed while looking in the backseat, convinced they had somehow lifted the seat and got underneath it, so of course the only thing left to do was to take out my trusty kitchen knife and stab my back seat to shit, the major issue with this idea of mine was ahead of me, there was a 90 degree turn that I never saw coming and I ended up putting my car in a ditch. The next day they found my car, engine on, door wide open, my back seat knifed to shit. When the cops contacted me, I explained that I had a crazy ex girlfriend that still had a key to it but refused to give them her name because I still loved her and didn't want to see her get into trouble. I spent the latter part of my 20's convinced each time I got high that I was part of some government experiment on drug use. I literally felt captive each and every time I smoked, convinced that I was being monitored and recorded while using drugs, knowing that I had to "play it cool" because if they found out that I knew, they would kill me...whoever "they" were.
My breaking point came for me one day when I living in a beat down trailer in some shitty trailer park, yes, that's what I had reduced myself to, one step above being homeless. My landlord came by to pick up the rent, the same rent I had spent a few hours earlier with the dope man. When he came to the door and knocked, I just snapped. I opened the door and shot past my landlord with break neck speed. I had to make my way to the main road, because I knew that "they" couldn't kill me on a public road in front of witnesses. I had a journey ahead of me though because the main road was about 100 yards from my trailer. During my run to the road all of my neighbors seemed to exit their trailers at the same time, all staring at me. They were each clutching walkie talkie radios saying things like "Subject spotted","He's on the move","Take him now", etc. I scrambled and zigzagged through various yards and when I looked back my landlord was on my ass in his truck, he flew right past me and skidded out in front of me, as if to block me. In one last burst of energy, I juked my way around his truck and made it to the main road. For whatever reason, I just stopped running at that point and felt 100% safe. To this day I sit and ask myself what really happened that day. See the thing to remember about paranoia and psychosis is that perception is reality. I know something terrible happened in that trailer park, but to what degree or what was real and what was not, I'll never know for sure.
I left all of my belongings and ended up homeless, smoking crack here and there, pending how much money I could hustle or get doing day labor of course. I knew it was all over for me. I knew that the line had been crossed that night the crazy lady freaked me out and created a pattern of me associating smoking rock with paranoia and paranoia behavior. See I finally realized that these things were programmed into my smoking experience. I could never smoke again without clutching a knife, checking windows, crawling around my furniture like a monkey. People on coke develop habits when using, some people crawl the floor looking for that magical $$$ piece of rock they know for a fact they "misplaced", some people pick at their skin convinced there is bugs on them, some people peek out of peep holes, etc. These are things that happen to users for various reasons, but once you do them once, they become second nature with your usage of cocaine. If you picked the floor last time, expect to pick it again and this time you might (for whatever reason) throw in peeking out of the window. I knew this one hooker that would read the bible, aloud, loudly...just sit there reading random passages for whatever reason.
I finally went to a upscale rehab clinic. The director of the program was a family friend and made it his personal mission to never see me do drugs again. I completed the program successfully after 90 days and then started my long journey of going to meetings and all that jazz. Well, it didn't work out that way for me. I ended up relapsing about 40 days out of rehab. What I learned from this was I didn't have a support network, hell I never did. From the time I was a young teenager I was being tossed back and forth between parents. I never had anyone in my life from the time I was 16 that didn't want to use me for money or drugs. Being in rehab created a situation that was not true to my reality after I left. There was no one to go to movies with or play tennis with, etc. I left alone, with a small group of people from meetings that had their own issues and responsibilities. What rehab did teach me though, was that I could quit and the world would not implode upon itself. I spent the last few years on and off of drugs. I haven't gotten high for the past 3 years nearly, partly because I have a family now and my kids mom is drug free, partly because I don't have the same numbers to get it anymore, partly because the thought of purchasing it scares the shit out of me, partly because I know what's waiting for me when I take that first hit, but mainly because I am just too tired to do it anymore.
My life has not improved greatly, I have had no burning bushes or epiphanies. I am an average person going through the daily grind of making money to pay bills. People knock drug users, especially when they hear the word "crack" because it's such a powerful word with such a dirty association but I can safely say that up until my snap from reality that seemed to last nearly a decade, it was the best time of my life. I mean yes, I have a daughter, and I love her and her mother and that was probably one of the most important things that I have ever done in my life and I wouldn't trade them for the world, but my life is no better or worse than it was when I first started using. I want people to know that it doesn't "get better" because life is pretty shitty for most people, you won't wake up happy as bells, dancing down the street. If your life was shit before drugs, don't relapse because it's shit after you quit and if you're on drugs now, don't quit because you think your life will be great when you do, you'll only be setting yourself up to relapse.
Don't take my wording for something it's not though. Don't get me wrong here, life is great, if that is your perception of it. I find it rather boring, I always have, so naturally being off drugs doesn't really "thrill" me. In essence, if you were an asshole before you started getting high, expect to be an asshole when you stop. If you hated the way the world was before you took that first hit, you're going to hate it just the same when you put down the pipe. I think that's important for everyone to know, because I struggled my first year a lot with it, I was super depressed because I thought my parents were going to be accepting of me finally and all my friends were going to come back into my life and the world wasn't ran on money anymore but instead sunshine and unicorns. I realize now that I am just a normal guy with normal problems, no longer do I skate bills for dope, I now do it to get diapers and formula. No longer do I ignore the electric for some rock, now I am ignoring it for our next car payment. I don't look down on people for what they choose to do, I think in some form or fashion that everyone alters their perception in one way or another, be it religion, drugs, alcohol, sex, food, money, luxuries, etc...we are all playing the same game and it's simple, change our view of the world to make it a more comfortable place for you to personally survive in.
My only advice is that if you do cross that line I crossed, think about the damage done at that point. There is a point of no return when it comes to cocaine and psychosis, a point in which that feeling you feel will never go away. I don't wish that on anyone, not the man that originally turned my teenage self on to crack, not the crazy lady that sent me into a world of hell. Crack is cocaine cooked in baking soda or ammonia, nothing more. It brings people to their knees quicker because it enters your blood stream quicker and gets you that train running through your head feeling faster, but it doesn't last as long, so it has more addictive tendencies. People throw the word around like it's pedophile or sex offender bad, I think that's rather ignorant. Each drug has their downsides and poor qualities about them, feel free to look up all the charts of deaths related to different drugs and alcohol, the stats are quite surprising. So don't feel shamed about what you do because that's just going to lead to further use. Enjoy your ride, take it easy, and when the shit hits the fan be strong enough to put down the pipe, I can personally promise you that the world will not implode upon your head if you don't get high today. I never make promises to myself to not get high ever again, I don't want to feel the guilt of relapse, I just promise myself I won't get high today. We all live with the decisions we make though and as free people it's up to us how we choose to alter our reality, will I smoke again....I think if I found the right person I could trust 100% and was in an environment I considered safe I possibly would hit it again, but I would do so with the knowledge and experience of abstinence, knowing I don't have to throw my life away to get high.
Thanks for taking the time to read this post and I hope I made some form of sense out of all of my thoughts.
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