So it Wasn’t Cocaine it Was Salt.

When i was 14 years old i moved to Florida to live with my Aunt and Uncle. Things just weren’t very good at my house with my mother, because shes nuts, so my aunt took me in.

We are inherently very different people, with our basic beliefs on life and love and just some pretty basic other shit.

I tried to be perfect for them. I enrolled in a super competitive program, maintained super high grades, took college courses at the same time, and didn’t really have a social life.

I woke up at 5am every morning to work out, went to school at 7:30, then went to school until 4pm, came home and did homework all night.

I as just trying to be perfect for them. I am not a religious person. And if i were to stand next to a religion, it would not be one based a Monotheistic value. So pretty much not Christian, Jewish, or Islam. They themselves, were very dedicated Catholics. They didn’t understand me, or approve of me. They would try to make me go to Church for holidays, always with a fight from me. Because in my opinion, it just an injustice to those in the Church who are there for their beliefs, and im just there because i was forced.

Towards the end of my Sophomore year i started to just not care as much about making them happy, and more about making me happy. I started rebelling, secretly, a little more.

I gave myself a tattoo of a heart on my ankle. I started smoking cigarettes. I went to a party. I had started seeing this older gentleman from my college, no sex obviously, but some serious emotions involved.

What really got me kicked out of the house was when i went to get my bellybutton pierced.

So i got it done, and i loved it. They give you a little bag of salt to mix in with water to clean the hole. Apparently my aunt went through my bag, and found the empty plastic bag. I mean, i understand, it totally looks like a coke bag. But i was 15… seriously?

Anyways, the next day she makes me take a pee test. It come back positive for Methadone… Which is a synthetic heroin.

I was freaking out… It was later to be revealed as a false positive. But it didn’t stop her from sending me back home.

Like come on bitch. I called you mom for over a year, and trusted you. And she couldn’t even trust me. Whatever. Like if i say that bag was filled with salt, take my fucking word for it.

So the second i got back to California, i decided to start living for me, not anyone else.

I was smoking a shit ton of weed, drinking, having sex and actually did start to do coke. But i got my shit together, and now im pretty fucking awesome.


Buying drugs wasn’t easy when i was 13

So I made the careful decision when i was the ripe old age of 13, to buy some weed. I was so stoked. I had smoked some before, but this time it would be MINE. I decided on 30$ worth… i felt like it wasn’t too much, but that it would be enough. I got into contact with a friend in my class who i knew sold some. Me and my friend S were supposed to meet them down at the beach, but then we ended up meeting him at Borders Books. We give him the money, and he goes to get it…

Okay, looking back, there were so many problems with this whole deal… From start to finish. I should have just saved my money and stolen some from my mom…

Anyways he comes back.. Why he didn’t have it with him in the first place is just beyond me… like the cops are gunna go up to this rich little white boy and ask if he has any weed… whatever…

He hands us the ‘package’ and walks away. My friend and I are so excited, we can barely contain ourselves… We hide it in my bag, and walk down to the beach. I had taken some rolling papers from my moms room earlier in the day… so it was on. 

We found a nice little spot in the sand that hid us from people, and opened the package!

If i could type the sound of disappointment i would… maybe waah wah waaaaah.

The amount of weed in that package would fit on a dime and still have room for more. It was literally nothing. not even enough for a joint! NOT ENOUGH FOR ANYTHING.

I spent thirty goddamned dollars on pretty much what you would be in a pipe after 10 people had already hit it. Ridiculous.

I didn’t know what to do… it’s not like you can file a customer complaint with you local junior high drug dealers office. Not like i was going to go home crying to my mom about the worst weed deal in the history of the planet earth.

The only shred of joy that came from this experience is when the guy who sold me the stuff was sent to rehab by his super strict Jewish parents. I laughed so hard, and thats when i knew karma was just the best.

Even to this day, the thought of what that little shit gave me pisses me off.

I don’t smoke weed anymore… i don’t like not feeling… and the insane munchies and the paranoia suck as well.

Moral of this story: CHECK YO SHIT BEFORE YOU BUY IT… or just dont buy it.. Drugs are bad… M’KAY