Last night I had some friends over. One of them brought "a friend" whom I'd never met.
This girl was just coming up 22, and I was afterwards told she'd recently lost a close family member, and had to organise, and speak at, the funeral herself. So not an easy time of life recently then!
She told me she was going to her first Rave that night, and was intending to take her first pill.
Apparently it was a legal rave. Now, personally, I've never actually been to one of those. Well, not unless you count the under-18s club night I went to with Lucy once. But I'm not sure if that counts. (I'll blog about that one soon.)
Apparently they're not all that different. I strongly suspect the dealers won't be lined up at the entrance like they were at the Raves I used to go to, but I don't doubt they'll be there somewhere.
I didn't say anything. God only knows why!! I bloody should have.
I just bit my tongue and kept quiet.
It’s so hard, I don’t want to preach to people like a holier-than-thou ex-smoker. I know holier-than-thou ex-smokers. And as a very happy smoker, I can tell you now that the words “well I managed to give up” are the six most irritating words you can say to a smoker!
But on the other hand, that person could be about to seriously damage their mind. I just wish I could take my memories, and take my flashbacks and put them on a plate and show them to people. I wish I could give them to people. I wish I could convey the feeling, words don’t cut it. I just wish people who are thinking about drugs could have my memories, just for a second, just so they know what can happen. But memories aren’t chips. You can’t put them on a plate. And you can’t really preach about them either without being a holier-than-thou ex-drug addict.
Y’know what? I might just make business cards for this blog and start handing the buggers out instead!!
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