A Clean Well-Lighted Place
A wayward soul.
The Drugs of March
I seem to have developed a little bit of a habit of trying substances in March before my birthdays.
In the last fortnight of my teenage years, the week or so before my twenties commenced, I tried quite hard to get high on cannabis but failed miserably. It was a disappointing experience I suppose, as have most of my encounters with marijuana since.
Now in the fortnight before I join the ranks of truly old age as I perceive it at the moment, I tried MDMA at a party after a few drinks including a couple of Irish car bombs. I didn’t really feel any effects, at least not as obviously and overtly as I expected them to be, yet another let down. I mean, I think sensations were heightened, but I couldn’t be sure that they were effects of the drug or just pleasing on their own.
I wonder if there’s something wrong with me—that I can’t feel anything—or if just like everything else in my life, I can’t even do drugs right.
On the bright side, there are still a few other psychotropic drugs I’d like to try so perhaps on the eve of my next birthday, I’ll experiment with another and, if all goes well, really experience a difference in perception and feeling.
