Citation: Hoboken. "Most Embarassing Night of My Life: An Experience with Sertaline (Zoloft) & Cannabis (exp42872)". Erowid.org. Aug 28, 2008. erowid.org/exp/42872
A year before the most embarrassing night of my life I had discovered marijuana. I had moved from Washington to Kentucky over the prior summer, and I was starting a new life; starting high school. I was nervous as hell going to high school without knowing a single person, but I took it as a chance to be the person I never was in Washington. I took it upon myself to become one of the 'cool kids.' I think most people know who the 'cool kids' are. The perception probably changes from person to person, from high school to high school. For me, the 'cool kids' were the ones who smoked pot before school, or drank from the bottles in their parent's liquor cabinet. I wasn't a cool kid in Washington, that's for sure. But, here, in Kentucky, this was my time to shine, and I did, amazingly.
I picked who I thought were the 'cool kids' and cozied up nice to them. Before I knew it, they had accepted me, and offered to get me high for my _very first time_. I was uncontrollably excited. D.A.R.E. had only made me want to try these forbidden drugs even more. I never had access to them until now, now that the cool kids had taken interest in me. So, a year before the most embarrassing night of my life, New Year's Eve, 1998, I was invited to smoke pot for the first time in my life at a cool kids house. Life couldn't have been better that night, the cool kids liked me, and I had found a new hobby: marijuana.
After that moment, I smoked every chance I could get. Being high took away the feelings of self-consciousness I always had lingering around myself. I felt I could make friends easily when I was high; I felt secure in myself, I felt like I wasn't just 'the new kid.' This all lasted until the conclusion 1999, when in that short duration, the cool kids no longer wanted me around. I didn't smoke as much pot anymore, and I spent more time by myself. I was fine with this, as I had spent a lot of time this way, having moved so often and barely having friends.
But now, I felt empty. Things felt wrong, and I longed for something better. I wanted to go back to Washington so badly. My reasons were shaky, but for some reason, Washington became mystified to me, some holy grail of happiness I had to give up. So, imagine my delight when I was invited again to the same cool kids house, New Years Eve, 1999, to smoke pot, again.
The night started out normally enough, I smoked, I felt wonderful, and things were falling into place again. Then, someone new showed up. Like I said, marijuana made it easy for me to make friends, so I immediately liked this new 'cool kid.' This new cool kid was offering everyone pills. I took some. I was told vaguely what they were:
'Anti-depressants, apparently they do something to you.'
'Ok,' says I, and down a few, proving I can keep up with any cool kid.
Later in the night, I become anxious. I feel my body convulsing; light twitching that seems amplified by my acute sense of it. I wonder if my twitching is noticeable. I want to ask the people I'm with if they notice my twitching, but I can't form the words. I can talk, that's for sure, but the words won't come out right. I find myself talking for too long of a time about something that doesn't make sense anymore. Trying to articulate my embarrassing (possibly unseen) twitching just led to more embarrassment. I could tell I was worrying my party, and I became worried myself.
'What were those pills?' I demanded to know.
'We told you, anti-depressants.'
'Jesus fucking Christ, what did you give me? I feel like I'm dying.'
'What did you give me, just tell me.'
My paranoia was out of control, and I had never felt a state of distrust like this in my life. I think it might've been a product of being chewed up and spit out by the 'cool kids.' Within a year they were my friend, and then just ditched me. Like I said, things like this had happened before, but I suppose marijuana never played a factor.
'Fine, it's LSD.' One of them says to calm me down.
'Really?' Oddly enough, this does calm me. Whoever said this was probably just trying to help me out, make me feel more secure. I obviously wanted some answer, and wouldn't take 'anti-depressants' as one. I accepted this answer, for some reason, I accepted it. I had never done LSD, so I didn't know what to expect. The people I was with offered to 'help me through it.' For the rest of the night they would ask me what I saw, and I would tell them something, fully immersed in my 'LSD' high. Honestly, I don't quite remember what I said, or what I saw. I remember feeling disappointed at the lack of effect LSD had on me, and taking more of the pills, but other than that, I don't remember.
The next morning I was told I hadn't taken LSD, that the pills were, in fact, Zoloft. I was the butt of a joke. I felt like huge idiot. I was embarassed beyond belief, and I wanted to go home immediately. The new millennium started out with me being the biggest joke in Kentucky.
I never spent another day with the 'cool kids.' I feel like Iíve lost a part of myself since then. I don't enjoy pot like I once did; in fact, at the worst while high I have intense panic attacks and extreme moments of self-loathing and self-consciousness. At the best, I feel tired, and a little zoned out. I don't know if trust plays a factor in pot smoking, but the experience has never been the same for me. I feel like I've lost my trust in humanity. As dramatic as that sounds, it's terrifying to think someone you trust is laughing at you without your knowledge.
I no longer live in Kentucky. I have a wonderful girlfriend who puts up with my shit, and is helping me through my insecurities, and lack of trust in people. I just wish I could feel like I used to when I was high. Sometimes I think I glorify things gone by, and sometimes I think I've already peaked in life. Sometimes I feel like a big fucking idiot, and the deserving butt of every joke.
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