I remember being in my early transition, having just gotten out of the military a year before. Mid 2019, just after my fiance had gone off to basic military training for the Navy, I, of my own volition and will, took my first hit of crack.

I met her when I worked at the gas station. She came in with a buoyant attitude and a smile on her face, and just started chatting with me, the captive audience behind the register. After a few times of talking my ear off and just being friendly, she invited me back to her place to smoke some weed and hang out. Mind you I had one irl friend, and that was it. My fiance was gone, I was in the throws of a developing personality disorder, I felt depressed, and I loved marijuana.

So naturally I said yes.

We went back to her place, where she packed us a bowl and we started smoking. I loved it because it shut down my thoughts, my self judgment, and my insecurities. I knew my fiance wanted out of the relationship; after all, I'd been a mess, throwing my engagement ring, yelling, crying, just generally being difficult to deal with. I knew it was only a matter of time until my life that I had started to build with him crumbled. I knew I would soon be out of my apartment with nowhere to really go. I knew. The only time I could stop thinking about it is when I was high.

We'd sit on her bed and smoke the night away, and then I'd come back and do it again the next day. This became routine. She actually became a pretty good friend of mine during this, but she had one quirk: she'd slip away into her bathroom and come out much happier, and smelling strange. As it turns out, when I finally decided to poke my head in and see what she was doing, I saw her smoking a strange white rock in a glass tube.

Mind you I'd never seen hard drugs before this experience. The previous week, she'd had friends over and that's when I saw cocaine get cut on a mirror the first time. I panicked and left her house, but now that we were alone, my curiosity got the better of me, and I joined her in the bathroom. She told me what she was doing, and warned me not to do it, but said, "You're an adult, so I'm not gonna tell you no if you ask."

Well, I asked, and took a hit.

It was... euphoric. Unlike any other experience I'd felt in my life. The heights it brought me to made me feel more than good, more than happy, they made me feel... blissful. When mixed with weed, that feeling only amplified itself. I was in heaven for all of the ten minutes the crack high lasted.

This changed me at my core. The next thing I knew, I had begun to spend all of my money on crack. I didn't just want it, I needed it. It removed the horrors of the world, if just for a minute, and I was allowed to be happier. The more I did, the happier I felt. I ended up blowing ~4000 dollars in three months on it.

Looking back, it was disastrous for me and everyone around me. When my friend lost her marriage and apartment due to her habit, I started hanging out with her at her new boyfriend's house. His drug of choice was heroin, and his roommate's choice was pot. They were okay people, when the boyfriend wasn't nodding or fiending. The roommate was cool. It's just unfortunate that he too tried to hit the pipe. I got to watch that man fall down the same rabbit hole I did, his life spiraling out in a fiery tail spin just like mine had.

That's the thing about addictions like this. They promise that you'll feel better than you ever have, and before you realize that that was just the cheese on the mousetrap, they snap down on you, hurt you, and you can't escape. She, my friend, didn't start off wanting to smoke nonstop; she just wanted to escape her crumbling reality. Same for me. For this roommate, it was simply the folly of naiveite that ruined his life.

Drugs kill people. I'm not sure any of these people are still alive. The boyfriend, last I saw him, was ramping up his use and nodding constantly. She was smoking all of her money away, every last penny, and was living in a grungy hotel. And the roommate, God bless him, sweet man, probably fell even further down into oblivion.

As for me, I got scooped up by the VA when I almost blew my head off with a shotgun and the cops arrived. I received a healthy dose of inpatient treatment, and eventually escaped the drugs. Things in my life weren't immediately better; in fact, they almost seemed worse, because I had to deal with the damage I'd done to my life as a matter of my addiction, only without my addiction.

My fiance left me. I did lose the apartment. I lost my cats. I lost everything save my car and what was in it. I ended up crashing on my "friend's" couch, but that's another story. Suffice to say, I learned a lot about myself and the pain I was hiding from with my addiction. I also learned how easy it is to get addicted. One hit can kill you in the long run.

I'm thankful I'm alive and only smoking weed as of right now. The crack (along with some meth and heroin) could've easily ruined me forever. Thanks to medical care and my inner strength combined, I could overcome it. I'm a staunch advocate for non-profit rehabs and free healthcare now. I don't know how I could've done it alone.

Moral of the Story: One hit of a substance can ruin your life, possibly forever, but that doesn't mean it has to. Thanks for reading.

TL;DR My friend tried patching up things with her FWB and I completely, obliviously, blocked her.

One of my(32F) closest friends (36F) ended things with her boyfriend a few months ago. This was a long 6 or 7 year relationship with lots of ups and downs and it ended very tremulously, so she was understandably heartbroken. However, she's been able to re-enter the dating world and it has been fun to vicariously live through to say the least.

She started hooking-up with one guy and there were some major red flags since day one, but, I figured if she's happy and getting what she wants out of it, then I'm happy. She had made it clear to the guy that she was not looking for anything long-term and despite that, he would constantly push her boundaries, demand extra attention, and throw a temper tantrum if she wasn't begging to see him. She decided that this wasn't for her and told him she wanted to take a step back from things. He did not take the "break-up" graciously. He sent a few belittling texts, posted a few passive-aggressive statuses aimed at her and then begged for another chance. He's definitely the poster child of being emotionally stable.

We had plans to go out last night. She texted me to make sure I was still game to go out and when I confirmed, she told me that he would be joining us. She seemed hopeful that he could learn to be more giving with space and patient. I put on my supportive friend hat and decided to go along and just enjoy the night and see if my opinion of him changed.

We get to the first bar and for a bit, I'm actually optimistic. He seemed to have really dialed it back with the constant need of affection and she seemed happy. I didn't know anyone besides my friend and I'm not the most social butterfly, so I just enjoyed my drink, picked some songs on the jukebox with my friend and spent most of the time on my phone texting my boyfriend. After the first hour, something changed though. It was a smaller bar and an older gentleman started telling a story to the bar (all 9 of us) and the guy just sat their with his arms crossed and his face turning red. I know I was reading into things too heavily, but it really seemed like he was throwing a tantrum because there was no attention on him. My friend asked how my boyfriend was so I asked if she saw the video he posted of him lifting. He was really proud of hitting a personal best, so I showed her the video. She told me to show the guy and said "That's her boyfriend". He seemed upset by the video, but again, I just tried to ignore it. He then asks, sarcastically, where my boyfriend is. Almost in an accusing tone like I was making him up? I was confused so just told him my boyfriend was at home with our kids. He pushes and asks why he couldn't get a babysitter. At this point, I'm just taken aback at how aggressive he was asking me why my boyfriend didn't come out and said "I mean, we could, but she is my friend and I'm allowed to have time alone with my friend". Out of nowhere, he grabs my friend's arm (she hurt her arm recently and was wearing a brace) and loudly made a joke about "I guess I can't use those restraints I bought you". I couldn't hide my face of "did you just really announce that to a bar full of strangers?" and I guess that was the straw that broke the camel's back. He stormed out of the bar and everyone looks around confused.

Then it all comes out. The attitude I was picking up on all night was him getting jealous. Over what? Over me. He thought that we were going to hook up.

Yall, I never so much as hugged this woman or even touched her arm all night. I've been accused of a lot of weird things in my life by men, but this was a first for me. Apparently all night he had been making comments to her about it and I have never been more dumbfounded. I felt terrible thinking I did something and wasn't aware of it, explained that I can't hear out of my ear still (it's been clogged bad since Christmas) so maybe I was just leaning to close, but I didn't intentionally do anything.

When we went to leave, he was sitting by her car, so she said she would take him back to his truck that he left at her house which was down the street (hindsight is 20/20). Me, wanting to make sure my friend was safe and also watch the comedy show go on, went with her. The first thing out of his mouth was "when we get to the house, can we talk without that thing going on?" motioning to me. I lost all filter at that point, laughed loudly and told him "absolutely not", because no way in Hell was I going to let my friend be around someone who was not the most stable in the moment. He then doubles down, calls me a bitch and continues to escalate, so I call my boyfriend. We get to the house, he stumbles out of the car and slams the door. He then tries calling her over and over, posts a bunch of Facebook statuses about her, then apparently was running to her friends saying he was done with her.

Moral of the story, don't let sex cloud your judgement when someone is showing you who they are.

Have you ever had Da Bomb? This might be a bit long, sorry in advance.

So I discovered a hot sauce when I was younger. I was out with my family, and they had stopped by a liquor store. I wandered in with them (I couldn't drink but I was with them so they let me in) and I noticed on the counter there was a display of hot sauces. Me, being a little teenage boy, thought hot sauces were fun, silly things that were spicy, sure, but couldn't do real damage.

I was wrong.

I perused through the selection of scary looking bottles, and settled on one. I ended up buying Da Bomb. It's a little red bottle with a nuke on the front and I gotta say, it feels like a nuke going of in your mouth. Brought it home and tried it that night. Three drops on a little pinwheel of ham and cheese, and I got sent. Wasn't too bad at first, spicy and tasted like doodoo but overall not bad. But as it settled on my tongue, I learned the hard way not to drink the devil's sauce. Nothing could soothe my pain. It felt like I had just licked Satan's asshole. I was in tears, fanning my lips, stuffing ice in my mouth, nothing helped. I even gave it to a grown man who moved headstones at the cemetery (big man, tough guy too) and he had to step out to cry.

Needless to say, when I asked to bring it to school and show my friends, my mother said no.

Well, I did it anyways lol.

Got to school and at lunch I whipped out my little bottle of evil and showed my friend Michael, who dragged his friend Luke over when I showed them the you-can't-sue-me contracts I had drafted up and printed off at home. I made them sign, though looking back, they definitely would not have held up in court.

So Michael's an idiot. While they both agreed to try it, he said he could take it no matter how hot it was. I tried pouring a dab on his fingertip, but he took the bottle and poured a whole lake of fire onto his hand, downing it in one gulp, hardly getting any on his tongue. He looked so proud of himself as I watched on in shock and awe. I knew he was a dead man.

Luke took the little dab, and tapped it to his tongue. Within minutes, the kid was suffering. I remember Michael making fun of him as he fanned his lips, as if Michael himself was unaffected (cheater). We stood on a long patio in the courtyard, in broad daylight, when Luke darted off to find water and Michael wandered into the "emo circle" to tell them about what I had brought.

Moments, and I mean moments later, some dumbass kids wanted to try it. So I let them, if they signed the contract. None of them took me seriously. I was always the weird kid, outcast, on the fringes. So they doubly thought I was just some chucklefuck with some Tabasco.

They didn't last long.

Each one of them wandered off, feeling satisfied they had shown all their friends, only to come running back in minutes in tears from the evil they'd ingested. Eventually, I got dragged over to the circle proper, and had a line of kids running through the courtyard all wanting to try my hot sauce. I would give one a dab, and they'd wander off, and I'd give the next a dab, and so on it went. This is how absurd line for the water fountain started.

Word spread a virus. The whole school must've known after a point, because at some point, through the crowd of kids that had swarmed me looking to see God, one of the school nurses comes rushing up behind me and snatches the bottle out of my hand, spraying Da Bomb all over everything. She grabs me by the wrist and tells me I'm to come with her, and she drags me into the nurse's office, where I see a lot of kids with red lips and teary eyes being treated with ice packs. Like the whole room was packed.

Turns out, the principle's daughter was one of the kids who'd tried Da Bomb, and she went crying (literally) to him because the pain was so intense she thought she was having a reaction. The nurse scolded the shit out of me and made me apologize to the kids, who forgave me and even gave me props for the insane experience.

She says she will be calling my mom, but lets me go to class again. I thought the ordeal was over, but fate had a tricky twist up its sleeve for me. Retribution, I call it. While I'm in my computer class, after lunch, the teacher calls on me to answer a question. I had medium length hair back then, and so when I turned to face him, some of my hair got in my eyes.

It had Da Bomb on it.

Da Bomb had infiltrated my eyehole.

When I tell you it was code red, I don't mean a light burgundy, I mean I was seeing fucking red. I will never forget that pain. It felt like God himself was digging knives into my eyeball. The teacher, seeing something was up, sent me right to the nurse. I hobbled my way down the hall, and got to her office, where Michael sat holding his gut. When I asked him what was wrong, he said, and I quote: "Dude, it feels like there's a hole in my stomach."

Another nurse came out and helped me flush out my eye. I asked where the first nurse was, and this nurse pointed into the back office, where the nurse who had snatched the hot sauce had two icepacks on her face. The hot sauce had gotten on her face when she took it from me and now her whole face was blotchy and red, and so I guess in the end we all got our just desserts.

Eventually I was set loose, minus one bottle of hot sauce.

One of the best days I've ever had at school tbh. My mom was furious. What can I say though? Da Bomb hurt so much it was kinda cool.

Moral of the story is, if your mother thinks it's a bad idea, it just might be.

-all the names are random- I live in Austria were we celebrate Christmas on the 24 in the evening not the 25 in the morning.

Me my mother, my sister and my grandpa (our dad passed away two years so were a bit down) celebrated Christmas on the 24 at our home. But its tradition to celebrate with the rest of my family the next day at my grandpas house. With additional my uncle ( lets call him steve)(;) and my other uncle(donald) and his wife (jennace)

We arived a bit late because my sister took really long getting ready. We opened the door and the first thing we saw was our donald. Totally drunk. And his wife cooking Christmas dinner. At first it was okay we did the usual. talked(he got mad after I said a word that was wasn’t Austrian), sang (he didn’t even try to sing it sometimes a word or two got out that were totally out of tune- he made them because he thinks hes funny) and some other things

Than they started to make the food. Jennace made a side dish called Polenta and Donald made Lamb. In his condition it was apparently really hard to remember that a 5 minutes aren’t as long as half an hour. So it took us much longer than usual to start eating. Jennace was still up in the Kitchen to make the dish and while we waited for our food donald got up the stairs. I think he wanted to help her or smt, but we just started eating, about half an our later they came in with the food.

My grandpa was a bit anoyed that the food took so long and than donald started blaming his wife. Jennace did nothing wrong and she stayed calm, until he told him to eat the saled that we ate before the main meal. At first she hesitated because she wanted to eat the lamb while it was still hot( it wasn’t)Donald than started to call her stupid and forced her to eat the saled. He is very controlling and has a drinking problem. Jennace took the plate, because she didn’t want to start a fight. Angry my uncle donald told her to do what he says and that she’s ungrateful.

Then FINALLY my other uncle (steve) stepped in and told him that he can’t talk that way its rude and not acceptable. At first he was a bit shocked and then started to blame Jennace again for him being criticised. My mother also started to talk to him about his shitty behaviour. Donald stood up and said that he would drive home. (They live far away so Jennace had to go with him to get home) Donald got outside and drove away without Jennace being able to get on. (We didn’t realised that at first)

Buffed we continued our meal.

Without a drunk guy on the table it was really fun

A bit later Jannice called us and told: She took a taxi and got home save with a bunch of sleeping pills shes sleeping in a “Kastenzimmer” I have no idea what that is, but i asume its a kind of closet.

She told us that she might divorce him because this happened a lot, but maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

Note: I write this on the same evening on the couch of my grandpa with my phone. So they may be some spelling mistakes.

Let me now what you think of this story.

delinquent boy in my highschool noticed i slept on my desk during school so one day brought a pillow for me to use

this happened when i was in highschool about 3 years ago. i went to a school for troubled kids where some kids had behavioral issues and others had emotional/neurological difficulties. i stopped going to school due to schizophrenia, anxiety and depression so i was sent there. i didn’t have any friends and i always slept on my desk at school. i would play video games all night then sleep in school since there was no schoolwork or homework.

this boy would cause a lot of problems in class but he was really funny. if i was more confident i would want to be his friends plus he seemed really cool. he never paid any attention to me to my knowledge but i think he silently noticed me. as usual i was sleeping on my desk in earth science class. he came from a different class to bring me a pillow to sleep on. in front of everyone he gave it to me and left quickly. i was surprised and confused on why he would do this but i accepted it. i used it all day and had the best desk naps of my highschool career. i felt happy that day since someone i thought was intimidating and cool noticed me enough to do something nice. he never talked to me after that either and i’m not really sure why he did it.

moral of the story: a person who seems mean, intimidating and scary can actually be very thoughtful and sweet. try not to judge people based off of ur perception of them. it was beautiful because someone that seemed mean was actually very sweet on the inside. he cared about me even though we never spoke and was willing to show this in front of the whole class. very wholesome moment that i will remember forever.

My next door neighbours are quite nice to me and my mum. We’ve been living alongside them since I was about 7.

One day, while I was still in the single digits, mum had to go to an appointment but couldn’t bring me along for whatever reason and couldn’t leave me at home alone, so she left me to be looked after by my neighbours. My neighbours owned a small corgi-like dog at the time.

On this particular day, when mum left me at their place, I brought along a bucket of Maltesers to eat as I sat alongside the husband as he tinkered with a lawnmower in his garage. Me being super young and having no idea that chocolate is poisonous to dogs, I shared quite a few pieces of the Maltesers with the dog to keep the boredom away.

As I grew older, I figured that maybe this incident didn’t actually happen. Maybe I remembered it wrong or it was just part of a dream I forgot about. If it did happen maybe I didn’t feed the dog as many Maltesers as I thought I did and he was doing just fine.

A few years later, mum had started to work longer hours and so she didn’t feel comfortable with leaving me alone in the house around 8pm or so. To solve that issue, she let me stay at my neighbour’s place again after years of not needing to for a while. I walked inside their house for the very first time and looked out into the backyard.

What did I see in the backyard?

A completely different dog. A bordercollie to be exact.

I told this story to my classmates while we were on camp after looking at a sign on our dining table that said don’t feed the birds. When I told them about there being a different dog in the backyard we all gasped “OH NO!” and laughed hysterically as we joked about me being a dog serial killer.

Moral of the story: Make absolute sure that whatever you’re feeding to an animal won’t hurt them before you feed it to them. Especially if it’s typically human food like burgers, bread or crackers. Do your research.

It was such a short and seemingly insignificant moment but I’ll never forget it. It happened only a few months ago, in July or august I think?

It was raining and it was fucking dreadful. I was waiting for the train under the sheltered seating area but the wind was blowing the rain into it. I stood directly behind the wall so it wouldn’t reach me. The train approached and everyone stepped out in preparation to get on the train and I waited behind a little as I didn’t have an umbrella and my coat didn’t have a hood of any sorts. I waited behind everyone while they entered the train and a man holding an umbrella moved closer to me and smiled at me, before extending his arm out so his umbrella provided me with shelter. I stepped closer to him so it would cover us both and thanked him before boarding the train. He waited behind me as I boarded and extended his arm out so the umbrella would cover me while he waited to board, leaving himself exposed to the rain. That was it.

It was such a small gesture but it stood out a lot to me. He was a complete stranger and showed such a simple yet kind act of generosity.

He was a gentleman. I’ve always wanted someone like that, and my entire dating life I’ve been wasting time on men who don’t have the natural inkling of how to treat a woman. They’re so self serving and they never cherish me until it’s too late. I hate that I’ve even given these people access to me when I could do so much better. A gentleman never has to be asked or begged or taught how to treat a woman. They just know. I deserve to have that.

Long story, sorry. Tl;dr - My gf and I tried roleplaying and she kind of lost the plot.

So to start this off, let me just inform you that she had eaten an edible before we got started. I was a little stoned too, from a dab pen. The edible hadn't hit her yet, but I was already high.

We start with foreplay, and eventually roll into sex. I casually suggest we try roleplaying, to which she says okay. I get off of her and we start flying solo, together, dirty talking to each other, when she says: "You're a naughty college student and I am your professor, and you haven't been doing your homework."

I'm into it so far, so I play along. We start talking about how I've been soooo naughty and need to he punished, and all the things she'll punish me with.

Thing is, that edible is finally hitting her.

She starts telling me how she is gonna spank me if I don't start doing my homework. Ok, so far so good. Then she says, "You need to be more focused on your academics, young lady." At this point I can feel it getting off topic.

Then, she turns to me and goes, "You haven't done your homework in so long. College is important!" She taps my shoulder, looks me dead in the eyes, and says, "You need to focus on your future more." Dead serious.

Her eyes are thin and bloodshot as I stare back at her, pausing. We both start to crack up, and keep going. We try again.

Now I, according to her, have shoplifted from Walmart and she is the loss prevention associate. She begins scolding me for stealing, and telling me I need to shape up, and that they have me on camera. She says I need to pay for the candybar and tells me go go to the self checkout.

???

I can't at this point. I'm losing the plot. She's giggling to herself now, high as all hell and only getting higher. She sticks with me though, and starts calling me names I liked. Success.

By the time we were done she was balls to the wall high and laughing so hard she farted. Funniest nut I've ever had.

Moral of the story: don't eat edibles an hour before sex unless you're in it for the laughs.

I've written two books now! I'm an amateur writer who has been doing it for 14 years. When I first started, I wrote a hand-written story that I'm too ashamed to let anybody look at now, but at the time, posted it online. The feedback I got was critical, but nurturing! They encouraged me to keep going, and I liked what I had done, so I did.

Over time, I started branching out. I wrote original fiction at first, but switched to fan fiction after a time. I amassed an audience of 600 regular readers and 12k reads a story at times. It really ignited my love for interacting with an audience, and fueled the flames that made me write even harder.

Well, all fandoms die eventually, but during this time I really focused on honing my craft. After this, I began to write original fiction again (after a break), starting with short stories. Then, I decided to really test myself, 8 years after I had started; I'd write a novel.

And I did. It came out to 50k words, so it was just barely there. I set it aside and resolved to never let anyone see it, too lol. And I continues writing short stories and honing my writing ability.

FFW to this year, and I've rewritten my novel and written a new one. The first is lesbian romance and the second is sci fi action horror, with their wordcounts being 65k amd 120k respectively. I put them up on Amazon after edits, and just the other day got my first copies in the mail. Holding them is like a dream come true.

My novels, in my hands. 14 years ago I wrote 900 words on paper and thought that was difficult. Now I have a 120k word novel that I wrote in my hands. Writing wasn't easy to get into, but I'm glad I stuck with it. I achieved something great, in my mind.

Moral of the story is, don't give up on your creative pursuits. It might take time, but you can do great things if you just keep going.

Context: I'm out on my porch, but I am tucked out of sight from these people thanks to a wall. I hear them come out, and one girl says to another, "Yeah you just puff it like a cigarette".

The person does it, and with that gravelly smoke voice, says, "Oh my god I hit it," before hacking up a lung. Then it gets quiet, and I just know the other two were hitting the gas as well.

Now they're over here laughing and chatting, oblivious to the fact that I know what they're up to. I can even kinda smell it. These girls are getting blasted.

Its ok tho. Im doing the same thing lol.

Moral of the story, you never really know who knows what you're up to.

My girlfriend and I went camping at the Grand Canyon back in April. We rented a little lot that came with a fire pit. Once our tent was set up, we went to work starting a fire. We were both so excited, having purchased hot dogs and marshmallows and firewood from the Grand Canyon Market.

Unfortunately, luck wasn't on our side, and it was incredibly windy that day. Our fire kept dying out with every strong gust of wind - we even had a Firestarter log but it didn't help much.

Then an idea occured to me. I started gathering pine straw and threw it on the fire. "I saw this on Man vs. Wild," I explained to my girlfriend. Sure enough, our blaze ignited and stayed strong for hours that night while she taught me how to properly roast marshmallows.

Moral of the story? Have survival tips handy when going camping.

I went skydiving a long time ago. I recommend it to everyone. The feeling of being high in the air, falling freely down, the view, the wind in your hair, it's incredible.

I got set up at a small country air strip for my skydiving, on the way home from Savannah. It was a whim, really, and while we (me and the other two going) watched the video before getting in the plane, I felt pretty excited. Nervous, but excited.

My nerves didn't really kick in until I got on the plane. It was a rickety thing, with an empty back, a propeller, rattling bolts, and for some reason, the pilot wore a parachute (like where tf do you think you're going?). I distinctly remember saying I should've joined the Navy (I was in the Air Force at the time) because my nerves were really getting to me. Was I really about to do this? Jump out of a perfectly good plane?

Time came at 11,000 ft. I was attached to someone for a tandem jump, and he takes me out of the plane. He's holding onto the plane, and I'm dangling over the edge, looking at the ground and regretting my decisions. Without so much as a warning, he jumps out and does a flip. I'm cursing and shouting but as we level out, I found a new sensation: peace.

Falling. Being free. Flying, really, it was incredible. I still dream of this sensation sometimes, and this was years ago and I haven't done it since. The scenery of beautiful rolling woods and farmlands, the verdant greenery, the feeling of peace, it was spectacular. I mean, if I was gonna die, I'd already made my choice it seemed. So I just buckled in and enjoyed the ride.

Guy pulls the parachute and offers me the reigns, I'm like hell no. But as we float down, I felt something awaken in me. Some willingness to try crazy, wild things that I hadn't felt before. I've always been adventurous, but this was something else. I had found a freedom I never new existed. I recommend everyone do it at least once. It's an incredible feeling.

Moral of the story is, don't be afraid to try new and even risky things, because sometimes, that's where the best experiences are.

I once ate a 1000mg marijuana edible. (Copied from my throwaway account).

Hi everyone! This is just a fun story. Thought I'd share c:

We lived in Colorado at the time, and the time was Autumn of 2011. I was in my 11th year of high school, and I was a bit of an awkward kid. I've always been awkward, but growing up trans and socially afraid will make you really awkward as a teenager. Thankfully, I had my cousin, who lived with us at the time, to get him away from his mother.

My cousin smoked weed, and I, a newbie, hadn't ever done it before he started living with us. He introduced me to it, and I fell in love. Now really quick, I have to introduce our third player in this story, our friend, H. H's mom had a medical marijuana card, and so she would supply us with high quality edibles from the dispensary. She was our plug.

One day, I asked for a lolipop from the dispensary, and she comes at me with this massive lolipop, and at the time, I had no idea what a 'mg' meant for edibles - I was still really new to this. So we go for a walk in the pleasant, pale autumn air. It's nice and crisp, and the sun felt really good, I remember thinking that as I started to work on the lolipop. This thing was rainbow swirled and delicious too, but I had a hard time consuming it all. Eventually, I just started breaking off huge chunks of it and chomping down on them. After all, it's only weed, right? And weed, so far, hasn't ever hurt me. So it's whatever. I've had edibles before - 25mg edibles, but I didn't know that at the time.

Well on the walk, it started to hit me. The trees started to sway in what I can only describe as slow motion, waving up and down with the breeze. I was a little surprised, but unphased. Weed was powerful to me, so this wasn't to be unexpected. So we walk a bit, then return to our house, H in tow, and head down to our fully furnished basement which acted as mine and my cousin's little apartment.

This is when I noticed things going south. Everything started to get really fuzzy, and my thoughts started to make less and less sense. At some point, they sat me down and made me watch the music video for Korn's Evolution. The gist of this is that the video depicts society as returning to monke because people stupid. Well I thought it was a warning, and we were literally going to turn into monkeys. So I started to cry.

I'm bawling my eyes out over this video and they're trying to console me, but I don't understand English at this point, so they're just speaking jibberish to me. Their faces were incredibly wavy and distorted. It was honestly a little scary, and I was pretty disoriented.

That's when my mother called us up for dinner.

Oh no, I thought, with what little thinking power I had left.

We go upstairs, and she's made cheesy pasta. One look at me and she knows I'm high af. She works for the government so she does not approve, and has made this clear before. She doesn't say anything because I think she can see that I'm not doing so hot anyway. We sit at the table, and start to serve ourselves, and I'm shaking, terrified because I thought maybe she didn't know and I didn't wanna blow my cover. I'm on the verge of tears again.

Reaching forward I grabbed some pasta with the spoon and shakily placed it on my plate, spilling pasta on the table. I believe my friend stepped in and served me, but we all knew that it was over, my mom knew. I'm terrified still, though. I mean horrified. I didn't know we were eating dinner like this tonight.

So I rush away from the table, head downstairs, and puke. A lot. Like it was rough. My friend and cousin are both in the bathroom with me trying to get me to calm down but I'm hyperventilating because nothing makes sense. I'm crying in the toilet, vomiting, thinking about how humanity is turning into monkeys, wondering why my friends aren't speaking English anymore, worried about my mom finding out I was high even though she definitely knew, and wondering how I got here. It was pure confusion.

Then I black out for a bit, and next thing I know, I'm waking up in my bed.

Years later, I mean like this year, my cousin would finally tell me that that was a 1000mg lolipop, and I ate the whole. Damn. Thing. I look back on it and laugh now, cuz it's kinda funny. Also I'm still a major stoner. I love weed. Whoop.

Moral of the story, be careful about your edible dosages. Stuff can absolutely blast you off for hours.

Title. We were headed to Arizona to get my things from a storage unit and bring them out East, and she was lookong through hotels on some sketchy app her coworker recommended lol. She found one that jad four stars and wasn't too expensive, in the El Paso area, where we were gonna stay the night.

She tells me about it and I say go ahead and book it. Get the nonrefundable ones, they're cheaper. She does.

Wrong move.

I see her out of the corner of my eye scrolling through the app, and she's beginning to fidget. After a moment of hesitation, she asks, "Baby, where is Juarez?"

My jaw dropped. I turned to her and said, "Juarez? Like Mexico?"

I can see it in her eyes. The light switch on, I mean. She blinks and says, "I guess that's what the MX meant."

I still tease her about it to this day and we laugh pretty well about it. We ended up finding another hotel and squeezing it into our limited budget with the help of my mom. All was well in the end :)

Moral of the story, always double check when making reservations.

Hi! Welcome to r/MoralOfTheStory. Any good story goes, so long as your post ends with a "moral of the story".

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"Moral of the Story: Don't overdo it on the drinking."

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