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Dear readers, this is a very sensitive topic and it will be difficult for me to write. Everything in this article is 100% true and nothing has been colored positively or negatively. Perhaps in the following lines you will find something that will help you, that will give you knowledge, or that will give you comfort.
First, I define myself in terms of drug use. About 10 times in my life I was persuaded to inhale the grass, but it was always like passing a pipe of peace, ie the whole joint or if you want bacon I never had. So the dried marijuana flowers didn't appeal to me in any way, and I always preferred a classic cigarette and beer or wine. My strongest experience with grass is that one morning I had a headache because I probably drew from some "good model", but that I would have a feeling of bliss or laughing at every "bullshit" that didn't happen to me. Then once in my life I ate some gingerbread in a glass of wine. My partner at the time persuaded me that we would then enjoy it in bed. Well, some fun went on, but as a result, my partner slept like wood and I couldn't sleep all night. So methamphetamine, also methylamphetamine most often methamphetamine, didn't appeal to me either. I didn't have the cocaine drug of millionaires, even though I tried a little bit and gave one clown 3,000 to bring me two grams and I haven't seen him since - I said so well to me :-) Well, otherwise my vices and addictions revolve only around nicotine and alcohol, which is considered a recreational drug, but I consider alcohol more as a means of relaxation :-)
There are no jokes with devils
My first big experience with drugs was when my friend fell in love with a drug-addicted girl and started "going" with her. No needles, but regular grass, hash, gingerbread and some pills. My friend was never like me, so no one had to persuade him to use drugs from time to time, but he had it under control and he was in a good position in his job. Now, however, he drove at a fast pace and lost his job within half a year, and after a year I was dreaming, the girl who got him into it broke up. He was at the bottom mentally, physically, financially he was just in trouble. I took him here and there for a beer, and I also kept some things for him, especially clothes, when he moved. Unfortunately for him he started going to a company whose lair is insufficiently defined. It was quite clean there, the bar had a decent menu, but everyone was there and I think there was the most breath of grass in my life when I stopped by. I didn't like going there, everyone started swinging there from a certain moment and they were in another world, when I went there, always right after the "opening" for the first two, three hours, it was quite nice, then it turned into a "valley of shadows" and stayed I'm actually alone there, so I paid and left. I also once experienced that one "smart guy" came up with the idea to put sponges (Lysohlávky) in a lever press.
He made a full cup of coffee and began to suck a few other "patients". Then to them
a pretty greasy guy came up and said a few exuberant sentences, took a cup and kicked
him to himself. In a few minutes, the ambulance and the operator of the business and
the bartender had something to explain.
Over time, a friend started selling weed and often pulled me out that he was making money
more than he earned at work. I wish him well and I didn't care what he ate.
A few months passed, and even though we didn't meet every day, it was weird that he stopped picking up his cell phone and nobody saw him for 14 days. I didn't know where he lived so he was just waiting. I'll cut it short - I've never seen him before. Over time, I learned that he allegedly squandered with his friends more than he sold, so he could not pay the suppliers and so he was "cleaned up" somewhere.
Rambo on his knees
In the war, I met a boy who, despite being a few years younger, was a bit of my role model for many years. He played sports in a truly professional manner, underwent many trainings and was with the police intervention unit for many years. He was the only person I knew as a sworn abstainer, a non-smoker and I had never seen him eat anything other than beef steak with vegetables, etc.… He liked nice and expensive cars and also beautiful women. I liked to meet him, we always had something to say and we helped each other a few times. In truth, I never noticed that his huge muscles weren't just from the gym. Over time, I understood and he even told me that he was injecting steroids and I didn't care, I just didn't take it at all. Then we didn't see each other for a long time because he was doing security somewhere in the Middle East. After about 3 years we met and he told me terrible information. For many years he was a user of meth (I never knew anything about him, because I always perceived his infinite vitality in connection with his lifestyle and sports) and told me that he was doing terrible things when he started injecting meth, so he injected him intravenously. Now that he's fine, but thanks to a year of living with some "gingerbread queen" and uncontrolled sex, he's made HIV positive and has AIDS.
Who doesn't like it doesn't help
Another experience was when another friend who had the same opinion on drugs as I changed when he found out his wife's infidelity. Probably nothing special would happen, but his wife caught it really well because she fell in love and asked for a divorce (they had a little daughter). It should be noted that a friend did business in transport and was often away for several days. His wife and daughter always had everything they wanted because a friend's money made a lot, but he was low on home and so what happened happened. My friend took it off terribly. He started getting drunk, was aggressive, rode a motorcycle overflowing, had constant problems with the police, and spent a lot of money on a lawyer. I will mention two of X's fads, because they are quite funny and then it will not be so funny. Once he kicked out the door of the CPZ because they didn't want to give him a cigarette and once he was picked up by a highway striker and he ripped a recording mini-camera out of their uniform and threw it away with no movie star :-) Of course he paid the door and the mini-camera, a fine . Yeah Al that sounds pretty crap to me, Looks like BT aint for me either.
He started making friends with strange people and covered the grass a lot. He passed one night after another, and not only I had to turn off my cell phone for the night. In any case, the worst part was that the company was slowly getting into the flowers, because while he used to leave most of it himself, he now hired where whom and customer satisfaction was getting smaller. However, the highlight was and that's why I write about it when one day he called me that he was locked in a madhouse. I thought he was kidding because it would be like him, but he really was there. They locked him in a madhouse, because at night I would breathe some super model himself, he didn't even remember what he suddenly got afraid of that he was being chased and climbed to the roof of the 3-storey apartment building at midnight, where he shouted to let him be. The police, firefighters, an ambulance arrived, and finally the friend was pacified and taken to a madhouse, where he received a jacket. I assume they even stabbed him, because when he called me he had been there for more than 24 hours, so he probably slept well. I got this information mainly from the record he got and from a friend who was with him, my friend only remembered the shards. Well, it took me almost 2 days to get him out of the insane asylum. He told me some pretty horrible experiences about his roommates in the insane asylum, but that didn't teach him either. He continued to use drugs and alcohol, and one day he was imprisoned, not in a madhouse, but in prison, because he had killed someone somewhere.
Czech version of Frida Kahlo
In my time, I met a girl with whom I had an incredible year of life. She had an endless sense of fun, fun, sex simply, she lived every day as if she had to be the last, and something happened every day. She was a painter of paintings and when she was in the mood for painting, she could earn decent money. She painted biblical motifs and her parents had a sales gallery in the center of Prague. Here and there she pulled grass from someone, but otherwise it was only pure alcohol, and quite honestly from morning until night we sailed soaked in wine day after day. She was crazy and literally drew me into an incredible model, which I would compare only to a game from fairy tale to fairy tale, but she would be called from party to party :-)
It reminded me a lot of Frida Kahlo, who knows the story of this Mexican painter can certainly imagine what I experienced. Every fun has its end and sometimes it's sad and complicated and sometimes it's natural and easy in this case the end occurred naturally we never broke up just we limited contact. Once every fortnight we wrote or called and met for a poetic meeting. Over time, however, everything was lost and I just learned from a friend that he was messing with MC bikers and that he was drowning in drugs. About three years after we met and two years after our breakup, and a year after I last saw her, she called me and we agreed to meet. She came to me and I was glad to see her, but we didn't say much. It was terribly strange, she still looked good, but it seemed as transparent to me. She "showered" me and fell asleep. Believe it or not, she stayed with me for two days and nights, she definitely stayed for more than 50 hours, and except for occasional awakenings, when she ate a little and drank the water, everything slept. When she slept well enough, she said goodbye to me and said she would call and leave. Then I never saw her again. About two years later, I learned she was dead. She was 39 years old.
Bar and guests, two in it and a spinning mixer like a television
Fate allowed me to rent a bar and play bartender for more than a year. It was an interesting experience for me, because I always wanted to open and operate the bar and after this experience I can boldly say NEVER AGAIN :-) Of course I went there different people and before I understood that one can not satisfy everyone right away, so I he almost went crazy. One of the worst guests was a boy who worked as a porter at a nearby hotel and lived a short distance from my hostel bar. On the one hand, he was fine, he spoke well, and it was fun, but I was shot here and there by something, and then it was poison. I put up with him a few times at first and drank until dawn, but then I threw him out. Of course, having nonstop for one person is bullshit.
The very nice guests were a young couple when he worked as a hotel chef and she was pregnant with him and they also lived in that hostel. She was 18 over twenty and whenever they came I was happy because we understood each other and it was fun. Over time, we got closer and they told me their story. They were both drug addicts, especially when she wasn't lazy about using meth, and he cooked and sold it. She was 16 when they met and he actually saved her. One winter they survived in a hot water channel and shopped by stealing from Tesco. In the end, when their parents realized that they were happy and no longer took drugs, they gave them a chance. He found a job she got pregnant and was getting married. I supported them from the bottom of my heart and loved them. One day on the weekend, we agreed to cook. I didn't normally cook at the bar, but the kitchen was there and I organized a gastronomic event here and there. I wanted to make breaded fried mushrooms with potatoes and she offered to help me. We talked during the preparation, and she pointed out of nowhere into the kitchen hallway to the refrigerator and said, "Do you see that?" I didn't understand at all - there was nothing there. Then she looked at me and said, "It's gone, but they're everywhere. I can still see them." I wanted to start crying when I saw a beautiful, young, pregnant girl scared. I hid my emotions and told her something in the sense of "it's going to be good don't be afraid" stroked her, hastened her preparation and went to get a shot. I realized that a certain amount of drug use has consequences even if you stop taking drugs.
During my "bartending" I also met the owner of a stone company that repaired old stone bridges, walls, terraces, etc. His work was interesting and I experienced it as an incredible hard worker. I had it with him a few times, because I was already tired of working at the bar and the haunting hard work of pulling stones, concrete, etc. was actually a relaxation for me. I write about it because he had very special temporary workers there. Although they knew how to work, but I look once and one of the part-timers who was in charge of mixing the concrete is standing by the mixer and watching it spinning after about two minutes. he winced and began to function. I then asked a friend how he manages to employ and correct these "erasers". He replied, "It's simple money they receive once a week, and if they don't come during that week, they don't get anything. Once I pay them out, I know they don't see them for two or three days or a week, so I have more to take turns."
We should have met earlier
The final drug experience I want to describe was the worst. Twenty years later, I got a call from a girl I had long since forgotten, but twenty years ago I loved her very much. She hurt me a lot then, because she didn't reject me, but she also didn't accept and ride with others. At first I didn't even know who was texting me and why I still wasn't called an unknown number and when I finally couldn't stand it and picked it up, I was very surprised, but also happy. The first thing I told her when I came to see her was "it took you bitch" :-) We hugged each other and then I spent one of the best months of my life. We understood each other very well and she also had two dogs with whom I quickly became close. She lit the grass here and there, but certainly not every day and the last of our lucky fortnight she "did not shave" at all.
During our conversations, she indicated that she had had a wild couple of months that they would probably have in court. She also mentioned that she often had a ball (Ecstasy), gingerbread and a lot of alcohol at that time. I didn't even think about it much. She dealt with difficult separation, complications at work and disagreements with parents. I was glad he was done. For me, her intelligence, humor, general outlook on life, sexuality were just fine, and everything was fully in line with my idea of a woman with whom I would like to have a future in common.
One day it was in the light of the old woman's summer when we were buying meat for lunch that her cell phone rang. The police called that he had a letter for her. She told me to take the purchase of the house, that she would jump right in there so she got it out of her throat. Ok I went home greeted with the dogs and waited. The first hour, the second, the third, and still nothing, I became insanely nervous, my stomach clenching, stroking dogs, and smoking one cigarette after another. Eventually my cell phone rang. She called me a terrible news. I'm detained. The hell of all hell began and a haunting rage ensued in me because I didn't understand what she could do in July so terrible that she was detained in October - they thought about it for more than two months and then decided to close it… !? That's bullshit that would keep her right after the act, right! I was really murderous angry and I had the equipment to do that, so I would go to the CPZ for her.
It's not worth stretching This article is not about unhappy love, but about dogs. So read and perceive. This was followed by occasional phone calls, letters, lawyers, courts, study of the file, appeals, visits to prisons, visits to hospitals. She didn't do anything terrible in July. She ran around the village topless and as I learned the local guys didn't mind at all. At the party, she pushed into a woman who provoked her, and her glasses fell off, and then drove a few miles in a car with a punctured rubber. Although they did not catch her in the car, they subsequently detained her 3 hours after driving on the basis of the report, which was incomprehensibly qualified for me as a dangerous ride under the influence of an addictive substance. The last act attributed to her was a dangerous threat, when my dear love was one July afternoon "Beheaded" as the law teaches, she sat on the sidewalk near the house where she lived, and two girls nearby mocked her. She shouted at them with words to mean they were leaving or that we were breaking their bones. The girls left and the mother of one of them called the city police. The danger of my love was really great, because the summoned patrol had to take her home and unlock it because she would not be able to do it alone. Well, you say it's not possible, because an educated, never-punished woman could not go to jail for that. She could weigh 3 months in custody, 5 months in prison and 6 months in court-ordered protective treatment.
The point is that her mother told her in that wild July to get examined. And so my dear went, and the psychiatrist prepared an opinion from the hour-long informal interview. It was nicely written on 5 pages of how dangerous my love is to myself and those around me and that she recommends protective treatment and because she was a psychiatrist with a round stamp so a forensic psychiatrist became a completely trivial case process. No one has ever heard that no one can be imprisoned for the deeds she was credited with, that she did nothing after the detention, and if she was so dangerous she could kill half the village in the two months before she was detained, no one cared that when he has treatment ordered why he is not being treated and is in prison. Nobody cared anything. Be very careful of any plots with psychiatry. You will find yourself in a completely hopeless situation, where even judges are afraid and making decisions irrationally, and the idea of finding another psychiatrist to draw up an opinion in your favor is unrealistic, because they will not go against each other's professional loyalty. It ruined my little girl and it burned our relationship. Although I can say with certainty that the system is set up wrong, I hate judges and psychiatrists, but the truth is that drugs are to blame. Every time I remember all this, I have to laugh with that ironic laugh - I just met "stupid" three months earlier and none of that would happen.
The main purpose of this article is to prove on concrete true examples that drugs are really crap and it is not advisable to play with them. I don't know anyone who would find happiness thanks to drugs, but I knew a guy who found peace thanks to drugs. He was a friend of my friend's and he had a great drug career and after graduating from hospital for 2 years, they even gave him a disability pension per capita. It was quite fun with him, although he was weird here and there, but it was possible to talk to him. My friend loved him and they had a normal relationship. Just great, cool, so one day a friend called me and told me tears in her eyes that he had hanged himself. No one will ever know the reason. Do you want to escape reality? Ok I understand, but drugs and different tablets won't really help you! Drugs only mean ruin, lifelong consequences, illness and death!
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