I remember weed being like that, before I quit. I would feel terrible every time, just so paranoid and consumed by guilt and grief. I'd end up asking myself why I was doing this to myself.
I gave up for close to a year and then only smoked every few months, when I would go on massive benders. They were pretty good.
I think it was just the end of it truly being a habit, that it started being really horrible.
We went to buy from a guy with a walled off grow room at his place, I mean the place fucking reeked, there was no point walling this room off. It was down the road from the prison had he wasn't long out of it. That was the last time before I quit. I was just like...this paranoia is just not fucking worth it.
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