"Yeah, whatever"
In my long gone youth, I did a fair bit of weed, mainly because it was a) naughty and b) didn't come with attached hangovers, unlike my other favourite mongfluid, Jack Daniels.

Eventually I grew out of it, mainly because I had a job with regular drug tests.

Then I broke my legs, and they put me on post-op diamorphine(heroin). Marvellous stuff, like fillet steak, sex and that sensation of waking up on the first day of the holidays between freshly ironed sheets.

I hated it. While it was in effect, a small part of my brain kept saying "this isn't you, it's a chemical". Every time it wore off, my body kept saying, "want more! want more!" I don't take orders from something that would fit on my fingernail.

And once I'd put distance between it and me, I realised that it had taken away emotion: love, rage, pity, despair. Like having my soul amputated.

Fuck that. You might not like me straight (sometimes I don't like me straight) but it's definitely me.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Mon 20 Sep 2010, 14:11, Reply)