I dug myself a pit I was never truly able to climb out of. That was when I turned fifteen in the ninth grade. I always had a negative view of drugs. Today I question whether the soft drugs really are as bad as I thought. The hole I dug for myself was mostly constant pot use for three months and I considered it suicide. I couldn’t do school work like that. I used hard drugs a few times but the reaction I got was extreme compared to other people.
I’ve gotten better but after a certain point I believe people just stop progressing. I worked on myself. I became knowledgeable. I cultivated my gifts. And I still feel low like I had become as a teen. My disease diminished my consciousness and I can blame it on that too. Hell is what it bad because it’s forever. This life is not forever.