It all goes back to the unfortunate event 4 months after I turned 16. I smoked a joint someone passed to me at a concert and started hallucinating really badly within 30 minutes. It ruined the concert. I was scared that I was going to die and extremely fearful of the aberations I perceived in time. I also heard voices. I believe it was laced with a deliriant such as datura. The following morning, I realized a drastic change in my cognitive faculties. I wished harder than anything that I could go back just 16 hours before. I prayed to God for it. I hoped that I would stabilize the following day, but no luck in that either. My memory was horrible, my speaking skills considerably diminished. It was absolutely awful. The days turned into months and my conditions only slightly changed. I couldn't hear as well and see as well. Something about my field of vision was darker and things seemed so much farther away. The larger the crowd, the more confused I was. It was terrible. Sound would seem to fluctuate. For the first few months, I would have flashes where my mental state would return to normalcy if I concentrated hard enough, but it would return to the blured distorted state it was before. I would pray and pray to Jesus to heal me as the Bible claims he did for the ill and disabled who begged hard enough and believed he was the son of God. After all, I've talked to so many people who have smoked joints for the first time before and nothing was permanently damaged in them. Shortly after, I noticed how apparent my change of mental health was to other people. Old friends began to think of me as reclusive and weird. The outgoing personality I once was was dead. I grew reclusive because of my diminished capacity. I managed to do well in school though, but I couldn't remember names as well as I used to, my mind was much slower and cluttered, I was extremely forgetful, People described me as spacy, assumed I did a lot of drugs, even though, at the time, I had only smoked pot once. I never really bothered to tell anyone my situation, because I felt that fessing up to my misfortune would expose my weakness too much. I really just wanted to pretend it didn't happen Its just horrible. I just want to die. I haven't been right since. I prayed and prayed and prayed, sometimes for more than 24 hours at a time in complete reclusiveness to get better to no avail. Life is like some sort of hazy limbo now. Ive even smoked a modest amount of weed since then. i've never been a pothead, though, despite what people think. The effects are in no way what that joint was. I blame this on marijuana prohibition. If it was legal and wasn't for William Random Hearst making it so because of his greedy self interest in the wood paper industry and hatred of immigrants, I would still be normal. My first joint would have been unlaced and from a package of clean, uncontaminated, government regulated herb. Life has been a struggle, and through my dilemma I feel that I have gained philosophical insights that could change humanity. probably sounds cocky, but its really one of the few things keeping me alive right now. I'm still not right. My youth is flashing before me in my damaged state. After about a year I made some recovery. I stopped seeing random hallucinations of blood dripping from the ceiling out of my peripheral vision and hearing voices, but those hopeful, brief flashes back to normalcy completely subsided as well. It probably has to do with the fact that my brain was still growing at the time of the incident. It was absolute torture, probably comparable to being raped and tortured by a sociopath. My mind was fragile. As I stated above, when I concentrated hard enough, my vision and hearing would snap back into normalcy, but after about a half a minute, it would fade back to where I was before. During these times, I was usually praying in extreme concentration. So I would rejoice to God for healing me right before my mental state would fall back to what it was before to my extreme disappointment. On one occasion, I screamed and cried for several hours after this happened. I now believe that life is just an inevitable result of chance events, things just happen, and that's that. In my hazed, day to day reality, I feel as if I'm going nowhere fast and that nobody will understand me. The days keep ticking by. I've been alive for 8260 days. Every day that passes is Death pounding another nail in the coffin. It feels like he's sped up his pace quite a bit. I will still fight on though. I believe that if I get on some meds, it may be able to correct my mental debilitation. I long for days before that dreadful event. They were so beautiful. Life was so meaningful. As it is, I could be on the moon and it wouldn't effect me. I feel that that incident has also left me emotionally disabled. My appearance is creepy and neurotic to other people. I find little enjoyment in anything. My mental state has improved somewhat and stabilized as I stated, but I am a far far cry from feeling normal. I don't even smoke pot any more, but people think I'm this huge druggie when the only thing I've ever used was pot and whatever that first drag was laced with. There's this sick irony to all of it. I've tried to ignore and foget the day of the tragedy, but it just won't go away. Finding a reason to live is hard. There's a gun in the house, and I've thought of using it on more than one occasion. Sometimes I pick it up and hold it to my head to get a feel for what the final moments would be like. Another time, I even set up a noose around my neck but decided against it. Just a few months ago, a girl I knew from high school contacted me on facebook. I never really dated her, because I felt inadequate after the incident. I talked to her for a bit, then I stopped talking to her online. She wanted to date me, I wanted to date her, still would, but I just feel inadequate. We clicked, both like the same stuff, she's really cute, but I just feel that diminished I could have dated several girls around that time, but I never really pursued it. Its really depressing. She lives like 5 states over now, and I'm really in no position to move, and the fact I've avoided getting on IM to talk to her probably made her hate me and have no chance of a relationship. I'm really on my last leg. I feel like killing myself. Funny thing is I haven't had much contact with anyone from my old home town for 4 years until recently when I got a facebook account. Some people thought I had killed myself or ended up in a mental institution. I suppose that shows how weird and bizarre my behaviour was that year of the incident. If anyone wants to talk to me, contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org. BTW, I've been avoiding AIM, because that's the service she uses if you wanted to know.