#johnny dopesick

Hard to say … because of the laws surrounding marijuana testing and research, we honestly do not have much information readily available at our finger tips regarding the topic. As a matter of fact, due to these laws, there is a lot of bullshit running around masquerading as science. From what I know, there are small effects like gradual loss of short term memory and cognitive ability, but there’s plenty of other shit on this planet that’ll affect your cognitive abilities (watching too much tv, for example) & something like memory loss is part of the aging process anyway. So to answer that question, to the best of my knowledge, There are no marijuana side effects that one needs to be worried about aside from the possibilty of early onset schizophrenia in young ppl under 25 (I encourage you to google that scientific study). 

As far as your other question – there is plenty of evidence both scientifically and through anecdote that it is more than possible to live a healthy, productive and successful life while being an active marijuana user – the best example I can think of at the moment is Barack Obama (I dare you to tell me he isnt STILL on the reefers!). There is also little but reliable information which suggests around 5-7% of the cannabis user population is or will be psychologically addicted (you might wanna google that one too), and I definitely fall within that percentage myself. All in all, different smoke for different folks. Trial and error, my friend! 

IF YOU ARE GOING TO SMOKE POT: Maintain a healthy lifestyle in terms of both physical and mental health, make sure you have alternative coping mechanisms other than smoking pot, talk to your doctor AND therapist/psychiatrist & make sure you’re eating three square meals, drinking hella water and getting restful sleep. 

A percocet is an opiate based painkiller. It was approved for use by the FDA In 1976 and marketed by Endo Pharmaceuticals. It contains a combo of acetaminophen and oxycodone. 

That’s just off the top of my head, any more info can be found on the correlating wiki page https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oxycodone/paracetamol

At this point, just about EVERY and ANY drug purchased in the Vancouver area has traces of Fentanyl.

     Seriously, fuck it man. I’ve been not giving a fuck about the holidays since Xmas 2010 (my mother would be so pissed right now if she knew that I “took the Christ out of Christmas”). I remember it like it was yesterday — my first experience with Valium. I bought like seventeen of them to sell in case I got laid off from work again*.       My family was in Florida, NYC, or some bullshit like that. I was too focused on:

[a.] becoming the wealthiest pharmaceutical kingpin in the city by my nineteenth birthday, [b.] and having sex in my mom’s basement with white girls.

     I got arrested twice that holiday; first, on my birthday — December 23rd — a few hours before a shift at work, then again a few days later, mere minutes into Xmas morning. Since then, I’ve slipped further and further away from my family as the holidays go by.      Last year was rehab for New Years. Year before that was the psych ward during St. Patrick’s day.      The one time I did show up to a holiday dinner:  – I went to Insite in my Fendi suit to smash a speedball, only to puke as the coke hit me. – Showed up high out of my brain cells and suuuuuper hyper, then fell asleep at the dinner table in front of my family**. – I was turnt, burnt, and getting dopesick by the time I had to Skype my dying 80-year-old grandaddy. – I was given three hundred dollars for Xmas + Bday from Gramps, so I proceeded to cab to Hastings to buy 680 milligrams of Serax and after hours booze. The whole time I was high, I wondered if my dead Grandma was watching me make all these poor decisions. – Came back shitcanned and gifted my family with a legendary freestyle rap. Too bad I don’t remember that shit though. 

-3-

[*] I’d come to work drunk and take hundred dollar bills out of the register. Don’t feel bad for me.

[April 22, 2013]

“How many days sober are you, Johnny?” asked Isabel, my counselor. It was Monday check-in time at rehab and we were all going around in one big ass circle, celebrating our clean time. I just got back from my first weekend pass, which pretty much meant I was allowed to leave rehab unsupervised for up to 72 hours. The first day, when I got back to my old basement suite, I found two crushed up Xanax tabs, a bottle of codeine cough syrup, and a thousand bucks cash; leftovers from some parties and a police raid. The second day was 4/20, so I got higher than Snoop Dogg at a Bob Marley concert. And the last day, well, I blacked out.

I was sitting in rehab pretending to be a role model but feeling like prime shit with self-destructive obsessions running through my head at record speeds. I lied about my sobriety instead of surrendering and asking for help.

“Today is my 55th day of sobriety,” it pained me to smile. “And I’m loving every minute of it.”

I was afraid. I was afraid of my addiction and what it might do to me if I get kicked out of rehab and left on the streets. I was afraid of getting honest because, even though everyone thought so highly of me for being one of the youngest persons to ever walk through the doors of this treatment centre, these fuckers wouldn’t hesitate to give me the boot if I told them I spent the whole weekend partying.

At the peak of my Tinder addiction, I was fucking like 4 girls a day.