Frick off homosexual. You've had the same "hard drug" experience as the average person who got a script after getting wisdom teeth pulled. Dont act like you getting high when you're 20 is the same as nodding off on a curb in
Kensington
I don't recall claiming I had any hardcore experience
>comes back to the thread 20 mins later thinking his reply would get epic reactions because it was the first post >just has normal people grilling him for being a moron
>opiate feel gud >stronger opiate probably feel more gud
That's literally the entire extent of my post and anything more you see there comes from the angry voices in your head.
Frick off homosexual. You've had the same "hard drug" experience as the average person who got a script after getting wisdom teeth pulled. Dont act like you getting high when you're 20 is the same as nodding off on a curb in
Kensington
i took one of those once and i only felt like i was going to puke the entire time. i knew a few people that were entirely addicted and either shooting it or snorting it. seeing them freaked me out to ever trying it again
I had some painkillers back in jan for a surgery. They were only 5mg. I only took them as the pain got bad.
But when i had 1 left i took it even though i wasn't really in pain.
Saying this as a stoner, it felt like I smoked 10 bowls at once. It may have been the best high I ever felt. 5 fricking milligrams. It was extremely scary tbh.
The history of opioid production is fascinating. The British grew opium in India to sell in China, both the CPC and the KMT used opium to finance themselves, Afghanistan was the major source of opium during the 60s and 70s due to the wars in SEA, and despite what they say, the Taliban still sell opium.
>By the time the bus arrived at Heathrow, it was daylight and I was now on the verge of serious withdrawals. I knew from experience that my body had been generating a gutful of midnight-black venom for hours now. It took every bit of strength I had to not start shitting and vomiting it up, but I knew, no matter what, my body would soon begin to successfully purge. I walked to the Tube station, trying as hard as I could to literally hold my shit together.
>I got onto the train headed into King’s Cross. It was morning rush hour and getting off the crowded, standing-room-only train, I fought my way through the mob in a hurry to get to their jobs, being physically knocked around from person to person like a human pinball, a raw, skinless human pinball of all exposed nerves. The last three blocks to my dealer’s flat were the harshest. I had to stop frequently due to the severe contractions in my stomach up through my esophagus and the brutal cramping of all my limbs.
>A block from his place, I finally could not hold back any longer. I began to projectile vomit so hard that it took me to my knees, then flat out on the ground. Despite the fact that I’d not eaten any food in two days, up came copious quantities of pure-black liquid. I could not believe I had come so far and had gotten so close just to come up short here, practically on the doorstep of the doctor.
>Scatman Crothers in Stanley Kubrick’s film The Shining flashed through my brain. He’d flown all the way from Florida to Colorado, had taken a snowplow
and driven in a blizzard all the way up to the Overlook Hotel to try and save the kid Danny, only to be axed as soon as he got through the door. I highly
doubted any children’s lives would be saved by my demise here, less than a block from the dealer’s.
>I spasmed like a jellyfish on my side upon the hard concrete sidewalk, puking uncontrollably, tears streaming from my eyes. Through the hazy blur of my saltwater-flooded corneas, I could see a group of giggling, uniformed schoolkids walking around me where I lay incapacitated on the ground. They pointed at me and whispered to each other and then broke out into loud laughter as they passed by the pitiful scene of my public shame and sickness, displayed out before them in the crisp, cold morning air.
>Okay, goddamnit! Get your fricking ass up off the ground! my mind screamed at me. What was I going to do? Just chill here kicking on a street corner for three days and nights? I had to get up the stairs I could see clearly in the distance, the stairs to my only hope, my savior’s pad. With every ounce of strength I had left in my cruelly ravaged body, I staggered to my feet and began running the last half block to the apartment building, puking off to the side the entire way, trying not to get any on my already soaked-through, disgusting clothes.
>As I began climbing the staircase, I puked in the direction of a trash can, covering the top of it in black vomit. I continued painfully pulling myself up by the handrail next to the steps, foot by agonizing foot. I banged loudly on my dealer’s door and heard his small dog begin barking inside. In a second, he was there, opening the door in his pajamas, obviously just awakened by my insistent knocking.
>The minute he looked at me, Juan-Joseph knew what was happening. He put up his hand and in his thick Portuguese accent said, “One second.” He turned around, ran into his kitchen, and returned with a small trash container, which he handed to me to puke into. I said, “Toilet!” Pulling me by my arm into his place, he shoved me through the bathroom door. I narrowly avoided destroying my only pair of pants, getting them down a half second before the powerful, unstoppable explosion of the same black liquid ejected like a shotgun blast out of my ass as, at the same instant, I puked again into the bucket I held in my hand. When it was safe to get up for a moment, I went back into the other room.
>He sat me down on a chair in his small kitchen dining area where he’d already started to cook up a shot for me. I continued puking and heaving into the can. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I heard him muttering to himself in English, and then something else louder in his native tongue as he scurried around his kitchen, quickly preparing a dose for me. When finished, he turned to me and pantomimed the motion of sticking the syringe into his ass, a gesture that said it was no time to search for a vein, that I should just muscle the hit, something I already knew. I got the first hit into my asscheek while he was cooking up a second, and then a third. I stabilized enough to search for a vein with the fourth. Sickness finally killed, I fell into a dark, dreamless sleep, sitting halfway up on a loveseat in his living room.
>I spasmed like a jellyfish on my side upon the hard concrete sidewalk, puking uncontrollably, tears streaming from my eyes. Through the hazy blur of my saltwater-flooded corneas, I could see a group of giggling, uniformed schoolkids walking around me where I lay incapacitated on the ground. They pointed at me and whispered to each other and then broke out into loud laughter as they passed by the pitiful scene of my public shame and sickness, displayed out before them in the crisp, cold morning air.
>Okay, goddamnit! Get your fricking ass up off the ground! my mind screamed at me. What was I going to do? Just chill here kicking on a street corner for three days and nights? I had to get up the stairs I could see clearly in the distance, the stairs to my only hope, my savior’s pad. With every ounce of strength I had left in my cruelly ravaged body, I staggered to my feet and began running the last half block to the apartment building, puking off to the side the entire way, trying not to get any on my already soaked-through, disgusting clothes.
>As I began climbing the staircase, I puked in the direction of a trash can, covering the top of it in black vomit. I continued painfully pulling myself up by the handrail next to the steps, foot by agonizing foot. I banged loudly on my dealer’s door and heard his small dog begin barking inside. In a second, he was there, opening the door in his pajamas, obviously just awakened by my insistent knocking.
>heroin makes you Engineer
jesus christ, that's what was in the cup
>By the time the bus arrived at Heathrow, it was daylight and I was now on the verge of serious withdrawals. I knew from experience that my body had been generating a gutful of midnight-black venom for hours now. It took every bit of strength I had to not start shitting and vomiting it up, but I knew, no matter what, my body would soon begin to successfully purge. I walked to the Tube station, trying as hard as I could to literally hold my shit together.
>I got onto the train headed into King’s Cross. It was morning rush hour and getting off the crowded, standing-room-only train, I fought my way through the mob in a hurry to get to their jobs, being physically knocked around from person to person like a human pinball, a raw, skinless human pinball of all exposed nerves. The last three blocks to my dealer’s flat were the harshest. I had to stop frequently due to the severe contractions in my stomach up through my esophagus and the brutal cramping of all my limbs.
>A block from his place, I finally could not hold back any longer. I began to projectile vomit so hard that it took me to my knees, then flat out on the ground. Despite the fact that I’d not eaten any food in two days, up came copious quantities of pure-black liquid. I could not believe I had come so far and had gotten so close just to come up short here, practically on the doorstep of the doctor.
>Scatman Crothers in Stanley Kubrick’s film The Shining flashed through my brain. He’d flown all the way from Florida to Colorado, had taken a snowplow and driven in a blizzard all the way up to the Overlook Hotel to try and save the kid Danny, only to be axed as soon as he got through the door. I highly doubted any children’s lives would be saved by my demise here, less than a block from the dealer’s.
>I spasmed like a jellyfish on my side upon the hard concrete sidewalk, puking uncontrollably, tears streaming from my eyes. Through the hazy blur of my saltwater-flooded corneas, I could see a group of giggling, uniformed schoolkids walking around me where I lay incapacitated on the ground. They pointed at me and whispered to each other and then broke out into loud laughter as they passed by the pitiful scene of my public shame and sickness, displayed out before them in the crisp, cold morning air.
>Okay, goddamnit! Get your fricking ass up off the ground! my mind screamed at me. What was I going to do? Just chill here kicking on a street corner for three days and nights? I had to get up the stairs I could see clearly in the distance, the stairs to my only hope, my savior’s pad. With every ounce of strength I had left in my cruelly ravaged body, I staggered to my feet and began running the last half block to the apartment building, puking off to the side the entire way, trying not to get any on my already soaked-through, disgusting clothes.
>As I began climbing the staircase, I puked in the direction of a trash can, covering the top of it in black vomit. I continued painfully pulling myself up by the handrail next to the steps, foot by agonizing foot. I banged loudly on my dealer’s door and heard his small dog begin barking inside. In a second, he was there, opening the door in his pajamas, obviously just awakened by my insistent knocking.
>By the time the bus arrived at Heathrow, it was daylight and I was now on the verge of serious withdrawals. I knew from experience that my body had been generating a gutful of midnight-black venom for hours now. It took every bit of strength I had to not start shitting and vomiting it up, but I knew, no matter what, my body would soon begin to successfully purge. I walked to the Tube station, trying as hard as I could to literally hold my shit together.
>I got onto the train headed into King’s Cross. It was morning rush hour and getting off the crowded, standing-room-only train, I fought my way through the mob in a hurry to get to their jobs, being physically knocked around from person to person like a human pinball, a raw, skinless human pinball of all exposed nerves. The last three blocks to my dealer’s flat were the harshest. I had to stop frequently due to the severe contractions in my stomach up through my esophagus and the brutal cramping of all my limbs.
>A block from his place, I finally could not hold back any longer. I began to projectile vomit so hard that it took me to my knees, then flat out on the ground. Despite the fact that I’d not eaten any food in two days, up came copious quantities of pure-black liquid. I could not believe I had come so far and had gotten so close just to come up short here, practically on the doorstep of the doctor.
>Scatman Crothers in Stanley Kubrick’s film The Shining flashed through my brain. He’d flown all the way from Florida to Colorado, had taken a snowplow and driven in a blizzard all the way up to the Overlook Hotel to try and save the kid Danny, only to be axed as soon as he got through the door. I highly doubted any children’s lives would be saved by my demise here, less than a block from the dealer’s.
>The minute he looked at me, Juan-Joseph knew what was happening. He put up his hand and in his thick Portuguese accent said, “One second.” He turned around, ran into his kitchen, and returned with a small trash container, which he handed to me to puke into. I said, “Toilet!” Pulling me by my arm into his place, he shoved me through the bathroom door. I narrowly avoided destroying my only pair of pants, getting them down a half second before the powerful, unstoppable explosion of the same black liquid ejected like a shotgun blast out of my ass as, at the same instant, I puked again into the bucket I held in my hand. When it was safe to get up for a moment, I went back into the other room.
>He sat me down on a chair in his small kitchen dining area where he’d already started to cook up a shot for me. I continued puking and heaving into the can. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I heard him muttering to himself in English, and then something else louder in his native tongue as he scurried around his kitchen, quickly preparing a dose for me. When finished, he turned to me and pantomimed the motion of sticking the syringe into his ass, a gesture that said it was no time to search for a vein, that I should just muscle the hit, something I already knew. I got the first hit into my asscheek while he was cooking up a second, and then a third. I stabilized enough to search for a vein with the fourth. Sickness finally killed, I fell into a dark, dreamless sleep, sitting halfway up on a loveseat in his living room.
>I spasmed like a jellyfish on my side upon the hard concrete sidewalk, puking uncontrollably, tears streaming from my eyes. Through the hazy blur of my saltwater-flooded corneas, I could see a group of giggling, uniformed schoolkids walking around me where I lay incapacitated on the ground. They pointed at me and whispered to each other and then broke out into loud laughter as they passed by the pitiful scene of my public shame and sickness, displayed out before them in the crisp, cold morning air.
>Okay, goddamnit! Get your fricking ass up off the ground! my mind screamed at me. What was I going to do? Just chill here kicking on a street corner for three days and nights? I had to get up the stairs I could see clearly in the distance, the stairs to my only hope, my savior’s pad. With every ounce of strength I had left in my cruelly ravaged body, I staggered to my feet and began running the last half block to the apartment building, puking off to the side the entire way, trying not to get any on my already soaked-through, disgusting clothes.
>As I began climbing the staircase, I puked in the direction of a trash can, covering the top of it in black vomit. I continued painfully pulling myself up by the handrail next to the steps, foot by agonizing foot. I banged loudly on my dealer’s door and heard his small dog begin barking inside. In a second, he was there, opening the door in his pajamas, obviously just awakened by my insistent knocking.
Yeah, heroin is wonderful.
>By the time the bus arrived at Heathrow, it was daylight and I was now on the verge of serious withdrawals. I knew from experience that my body had been generating a gutful of midnight-black venom for hours now. It took every bit of strength I had to not start shitting and vomiting it up, but I knew, no matter what, my body would soon begin to successfully purge. I walked to the Tube station, trying as hard as I could to literally hold my shit together.
>I got onto the train headed into King’s Cross. It was morning rush hour and getting off the crowded, standing-room-only train, I fought my way through the mob in a hurry to get to their jobs, being physically knocked around from person to person like a human pinball, a raw, skinless human pinball of all exposed nerves. The last three blocks to my dealer’s flat were the harshest. I had to stop frequently due to the severe contractions in my stomach up through my esophagus and the brutal cramping of all my limbs.
>A block from his place, I finally could not hold back any longer. I began to projectile vomit so hard that it took me to my knees, then flat out on the ground. Despite the fact that I’d not eaten any food in two days, up came copious quantities of pure-black liquid. I could not believe I had come so far and had gotten so close just to come up short here, practically on the doorstep of the doctor.
>Scatman Crothers in Stanley Kubrick’s film The Shining flashed through my brain. He’d flown all the way from Florida to Colorado, had taken a snowplow
and driven in a blizzard all the way up to the Overlook Hotel to try and save the kid Danny, only to be axed as soon as he got through the door. I highly
doubted any children’s lives would be saved by my demise here, less than a block from the dealer’s.
No, but druggies are really that dumb, and if they're too lazy to learn an instrument, draw, do something halfway artistic or constructive, I could definitely see them romanticizing the drug use since it's the only fricking hobby they have.
>The minute he looked at me, Juan-Joseph knew what was happening. He put up his hand and in his thick Portuguese accent said, “One second.” He turned around, ran into his kitchen, and returned with a small trash container, which he handed to me to puke into. I said, “Toilet!” Pulling me by my arm into his place, he shoved me through the bathroom door. I narrowly avoided destroying my only pair of pants, getting them down a half second before the powerful, unstoppable explosion of the same black liquid ejected like a shotgun blast out of my ass as, at the same instant, I puked again into the bucket I held in my hand. When it was safe to get up for a moment, I went back into the other room.
>He sat me down on a chair in his small kitchen dining area where he’d already started to cook up a shot for me. I continued puking and heaving into the can. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I heard him muttering to himself in English, and then something else louder in his native tongue as he scurried around his kitchen, quickly preparing a dose for me. When finished, he turned to me and pantomimed the motion of sticking the syringe into his ass, a gesture that said it was no time to search for a vein, that I should just muscle the hit, something I already knew. I got the first hit into my asscheek while he was cooking up a second, and then a third. I stabilized enough to search for a vein with the fourth. Sickness finally killed, I fell into a dark, dreamless sleep, sitting halfway up on a loveseat in his living room.
Yes. Some people may be genetically averse to it because of side effects like nausea or allergy but it's generally the tops. It's the feeling just before you doze off into a comfy blanket on Christmas Eve in injectable form.
Unfortunately life comes with guaranteed suffering and poppy juice would be too simple of a solution so expect hell if you ever make a habit of it and abstain.
Yes but opioids are tricky. You have to hit them just right when you are naive to them and have 0 tolerance otherwise you're going to have a bad time. The big mistake most people who are new to them make is taking way too much which makes you too drowzy and sick to enjoy them.
If you're new to them and hit it just right it's magic, best thing you've ever felt and ever will feel, and after a few times it's gone, never to return no matter how much you chase it. It's not an inebriated or jittery or manic high that puts you in a different head space, it's just an "I feel fricking amazing, everything is great and there's nothing to worry about ever again" high. The people who you see abusing them long term isn't because it makes them feel great any more, it's because they can't forget how it felt that one time and want it back.
>I feel fricking amazing, everything is great and there's nothing to worry about ever again
I had this with shrooms+weed. Just sitting in front of the mirror looking at the shamanic spirit man in it smiling at me while taking in the good feels that radiated from all around me.
The exact feeling I managed to produce then has never returned but I don't feel like all the other attempts I've made haven't been letdowns either, just different since they're all refreshing and good. For a couple weeks afterwards I keep feeling happy about the trip I had. I can go for months or years without thinking about needing more psychedelics so it doesn't make me that addicted. I do get constant cravings for weed though.
Psychedelics (LSD, shrooms, DMT specifically) are the most kino drug.
Yes but opioids are tricky. You have to hit them just right when you are naive to them and have 0 tolerance otherwise you're going to have a bad time. The big mistake most people who are new to them make is taking way too much which makes you too drowzy and sick to enjoy them.
If you're new to them and hit it just right it's magic, best thing you've ever felt and ever will feel, and after a few times it's gone, never to return no matter how much you chase it. It's not an inebriated or jittery or manic high that puts you in a different head space, it's just an "I feel fricking amazing, everything is great and there's nothing to worry about ever again" high. The people who you see abusing them long term isn't because it makes them feel great any more, it's because they can't forget how it felt that one time and want it back.
I had that temporary romance with coffee so I can understand. I just want comfy coffee time back...
Ex heroin/coke/meth addict reporting in. Yes speedballs feel fricking godly. I've banged a few hot bawds in my 20's too, (oldgay here) and nothing comes fricking close to a good speedball. It's way different than just snorting coke or doing an oxy. It's an extreme heart racing INSAINELY euphoric rush from the coke, but instead of the anxiety one normally gets as the coke wears off and that super sad mood kicks in when the coke is gone, the heroin just slowly blankets you like a warm fuzzy euphoric blanket. The feeling you get from shooting up feels like a warm fuzzy feeling and the SECOND it hits your heart you feel it pulsate pure ecstasy through your whole body up into your head and down into your legs. God It's fricking wonderful, don't ever try it. My life turned into trainspotting basically overnight. Was selling all my stuff and getting kicked out of everywhere for 2 years before i got my shit together. Booze, and over the counter opiates barely feel good to me either 10 years later. It's true nothing really comes close after you've tried it. I still take kratom and kava reguarly but it really doesn't come close, its just a safe alternative to opiates/booze.
>I've banged a few hot bawds in my 20's too, (oldgay here) and nothing comes fricking close to a good speedball
this is the point i was making about the lust cult. they are obsessed about sex. but there are better things in life.
drugs will show you this.
then it's up to you to decide if your just going to chase dopamine highs or have a purpose in life
Heroin/opiates suck. Why would you willingly choose to give yourself less energy and a raging fever unlike any you’ve ever felt if you try to stop. >t. 27 year old who has used most drugs from meth to LSD to heroin but stopped on his 23rd birthday without attending AA/NA once lol
Why did Mark frick over Tommy so bad? I get getting him hooked on heroin since Tommy offered to pay, and that's what junkies are down for. but stealing his sex tape and showing everyone? part of the reason Tommy wanted to try smack
My coworker is an ex heroin addict and he's an insufferable prick that licks the bosses butthole. I don't care whatever he did to kick the habit he needs to get his anger checked and stop being an ass kisser for minimum wage. Maybe it's all he has now. It's like ex addicts have some militaristic attitude after they come off their addiction.
Anyone else have experiences with dentists immediately prescribing you shit like valium and tylenol with codeine, even without you asking?
I have a ridiculous amount of tylenol codeine now from a dentist and pediatrist, and I only tried it once. Valium was TOO good and I never want to do it again. Why do doctors prescribe these drugs so quickly when they know the risks?
coz most people are smart like you and don't abuse the drugs.
morons will pop them like candy and get hooked. ofc they're moronic so it doesn't affect their QoL at all.
i read the book like 15 years ago and i remember her being more fleshed out in that. i think it was partly to show how he knew he was aging because everything he was into was lame to her. he actually seemed to like her too
Hospitals have been using it in surgery for a few years now, it didn't take much for it to get out into recreational use. I think I first had a friend die from it in 2021
when china and the cartels hooked up soon they'll be no more heroin at all anywhere fentanyl can by synthesized no more pesky growing operations dealing with seasons and farmers just import the precurserrors from china or india and you can press millions of pills
The best thing to do with drug addicts or people who drink is to give them what they want, be polite. Then, once they've finished their glass, you pour them another one. And another one, and so on until they start saying for some silly reason "no thanks"
By then they should already be very easy to handle and you cqn proceed to hold them down and pour their holy water on their face and in their mouth until they start crying or something. They'll probably never drink again, so you'd be doing their incontinent asses a favor.
I used to be a heroin addict, needles and everything, it isn't like cumming with your whole body or whatever people say. The rush from shooting is intense but you only really get that on your first hit of the day. You get the most mileage out of the drug when you're heavily addicted, because you get to the end of the day, you haven't had a hit since shooting up in the bathroom at work, and that first hit is such a relief, the removal of the withdrawal symptoms combined with the high is like going from 0 to 100. That's what keeps people coming back, heroin feels best when not having it feels like the end of the world. When you go too long without a hit and you're losing your mind, that's the best hit you'll ever have in your life. And even if you kick it, the mark it leaves on your psyche is like a bad ex. You know she's a piece of shit that put you through hell but you still fantasize about fricking her. When you aren't going through withdrawal, or don't have some kind of pain in your life that you're trying to forget, heroin is pretty mid as drugs go.
interesting I've taken hydrocodone and oxycodone orally the high is subtle it's not in your face like meth or psychs you almost don't even notice the subtle mood improvement and relaxation IMHO
Yeah that's pretty much it, a few weeks back I was an idiot and bought a couple morphine pills and needles, I shot up 3 times total before I just ate the remaining pills and threw out all the syringes. The rush made me uncomfortable, the high was meh, and the thought of dying actually felt real and scary. I just don't enjoy it anymore. But in a few months time I'll probably catch myself jonesing for it again. That's what usually happens anyway, but I think it'll be different this time.
I don't get the appeal of just being blacked out on anything
drinking beer and cider all day is fun and lets me escape from my many (many) problems
how exactly is drinking a bottle of whiskey or taking a shot of heroin and just passing out at like 2 in day even enjoyable?
It isn't enjoyable but spirits are a far more efficient and comfy way to get drunk than beer or cider. With beer and cider the amount of sheer liquid required to get a buzz is huge. I can drink a swig of vodka and be set for a nice little buzz while I cook dinner or something. No beer belly, no lethargy
Yes. That's why people wont stop talking about their trips whether they were "good" or "bad" trips. (Even the bad trips are kinda kino after the fact unless you're seriously fricked up probably I wouldn't know)
>I feel fricking amazing, everything is great and there's nothing to worry about ever again
I had this with shrooms+weed. Just sitting in front of the mirror looking at the shamanic spirit man in it smiling at me while taking in the good feels that radiated from all around me.
The exact feeling I managed to produce then has never returned but I don't feel like all the other attempts I've made haven't been letdowns either, just different since they're all refreshing and good. For a couple weeks afterwards I keep feeling happy about the trip I had. I can go for months or years without thinking about needing more psychedelics so it doesn't make me that addicted. I do get constant cravings for weed though.
Psychedelics (LSD, shrooms, DMT specifically) are the most kino drug.
I'm more interested in the afterglow than the insane trip because I feel like life totally lost the spark like 4 years ago and all descriptions of the afterglow sound like how I felt like every day until I was 26 years old. It's dopamine doing some shit, not a dopamine hit but just a high baseline of dopamine
the trip that i mentioned wasnt "insane".
it was low dose. it's just in conjuction with edibles it was like i was just floating in a heavenly feeling.
i dont even like mind blowing wacky crazy hero dose trips that much. the afterglow sticks longer this way though.
but for you just the microdosing would probably be good. i've tried it for a couple months and it did make me more energetic and optimistic about shit in general but keeping up a scheduled habit like that isnt for me and i prefer taking those low dose pauses to life occasionally instead.
my uncle who was an alcoholic for 30 years hasnt drunk since he started.
Theres a fricking why its romanticized as the gold standard of street drugs. No ones taking crack and making a #1 song about the experience. No one does documentaries about weed addicts, lol. No one cares about a meth addict/ artist who goes on a emotional rehab interview. Morphine? LOL
Heroin is and will forever be the scary succ under the bed.
I may or may not have only snorted oxy a few times and it may or may not have been pretty damn good so I'd assume so
>may or may not
are you really that clueless as to whether or not you used opioids? I swear americans never fail to disappoint me
moron
I don't recall claiming I had any hardcore experience
No one said "hardcore" you fricking dolt
someone is cranky and needs to calm down
He's probably jonesing.
Be nice
>No one said "hardcore" you fricking dolt
you just did
checkmate, atheist scum
>comes back to the thread 20 mins later thinking his reply would get epic reactions because it was the first post
>just has normal people grilling him for being a moron
top kek my homie you are moronic and gay
>opiate feel gud
>stronger opiate probably feel more gud
That's literally the entire extent of my post and anything more you see there comes from the angry voices in your head.
Good lord you have insecurities. You got called out for being a gay, call it a night
stop projecting angry moron
Frick off homosexual. You've had the same "hard drug" experience as the average person who got a script after getting wisdom teeth pulled. Dont act like you getting high when you're 20 is the same as nodding off on a curb in
Kensington
Look out fellas, we got a REAL heroin guy here.
I’m pretty sure I know that anon, and yea he had a pretty bad heroin problem. Hope you’re doing better now lemons
>getting wisdom teeth pulled
Someone tell my fricking dentist that.
I wasn't given shit for pain.
>gatekeeping being a fricking loser
i took one of those once and i only felt like i was going to puke the entire time. i knew a few people that were entirely addicted and either shooting it or snorting it. seeing them freaked me out to ever trying it again
No drugs are bad
Which ones have you tried?
yes drugs are good
Yes, having 0 drugs is pretty bad
Mmkay
its true. if you need to take drugs to enjoy something or live life, its a pretty shitty life/medium.
Yes goy. It's just like the movies.
Of course it is. It's so good that once you try it you won't care about anything else life has to offer, except maybe stronger opioids.
>Of course it is. It's so good that once you try it you won't care about anything else life has to offer, except maybe stronger opioids
that's what the lust cult wants you to believe
I fell back in comfort
I can barely maintain a healthy drinking habit I would instantly OD on heroin probably
Death by heroin OD vs continued living in israeli clown world.
It's a touch call bros
Yes yes have a nice day goy.
>hehe there is only two paths goy
>living
>dying
curious what else you have in mind
cooming
a coma, the best of both worlds
kek
yes
it's why you should never try it
whatever you do afterwards, will be a dissapointment
Apparently yes, which is why I’ll never try it.
yeah
I had some painkillers back in jan for a surgery. They were only 5mg. I only took them as the pain got bad.
But when i had 1 left i took it even though i wasn't really in pain.
Saying this as a stoner, it felt like I smoked 10 bowls at once. It may have been the best high I ever felt. 5 fricking milligrams. It was extremely scary tbh.
redditors, please frick off to lemmy
Just to find you with your masterminder
Running your affairs
Saying how you're better now
Since it killed all your other cares
See you later
See you later
If I see you at all
Heroin turns ya scottish
Being scottish is shite man!
>he says, before fricking a prime scottish lass
this movie was so lame, he fricked jb and then got all sour about it like some homosexual
I smoked heroin in a bathroom stall. It made me euphoric for exactly 20 minutes, then I puked my guts up. I do not recommend it.
I've been smoking weed for over a decade and highly recommend it.
A guy once asked me why I've done drugs. The answer was so idiotically simple: Because it feels good
Never done heroin, but I'm fairly sure it is completely awesome
You don't deserve to be lonely
But those drugs you got won't make you feel better
Pretty soon you'll find it's the only
Little part of your life you're keeping together
Tried it twice when I lived in Portland.
It was okay.
mixed w/ meth was pretty good, but meth alone was gross.
I prefer xanax
Heroin is based. Been snorting it for a year a gram a month. Only do it if you have some self control.
You're already addicted and you don't even realize it.
>if you do drugs you get cute gf
that's it bros, I'm becoming drug addict
The logic checks out.
It'll turn all your bad feelings into good feelings!
It's a nightmare!
>Heroin is based.
Opiates are Aryan in the most literal sense
The history of opioid production is fascinating. The British grew opium in India to sell in China, both the CPC and the KMT used opium to finance themselves, Afghanistan was the major source of opium during the 60s and 70s due to the wars in SEA, and despite what they say, the Taliban still sell opium.
it’s also probably the soma written in the Vedas
Yeah, heroin is wonderful.
>By the time the bus arrived at Heathrow, it was daylight and I was now on the verge of serious withdrawals. I knew from experience that my body had been generating a gutful of midnight-black venom for hours now. It took every bit of strength I had to not start shitting and vomiting it up, but I knew, no matter what, my body would soon begin to successfully purge. I walked to the Tube station, trying as hard as I could to literally hold my shit together.
>I got onto the train headed into King’s Cross. It was morning rush hour and getting off the crowded, standing-room-only train, I fought my way through the mob in a hurry to get to their jobs, being physically knocked around from person to person like a human pinball, a raw, skinless human pinball of all exposed nerves. The last three blocks to my dealer’s flat were the harshest. I had to stop frequently due to the severe contractions in my stomach up through my esophagus and the brutal cramping of all my limbs.
>A block from his place, I finally could not hold back any longer. I began to projectile vomit so hard that it took me to my knees, then flat out on the ground. Despite the fact that I’d not eaten any food in two days, up came copious quantities of pure-black liquid. I could not believe I had come so far and had gotten so close just to come up short here, practically on the doorstep of the doctor.
>Scatman Crothers in Stanley Kubrick’s film The Shining flashed through my brain. He’d flown all the way from Florida to Colorado, had taken a snowplow
and driven in a blizzard all the way up to the Overlook Hotel to try and save the kid Danny, only to be axed as soon as he got through the door. I highly
doubted any children’s lives would be saved by my demise here, less than a block from the dealer’s.
>I spasmed like a jellyfish on my side upon the hard concrete sidewalk, puking uncontrollably, tears streaming from my eyes. Through the hazy blur of my saltwater-flooded corneas, I could see a group of giggling, uniformed schoolkids walking around me where I lay incapacitated on the ground. They pointed at me and whispered to each other and then broke out into loud laughter as they passed by the pitiful scene of my public shame and sickness, displayed out before them in the crisp, cold morning air.
>Okay, goddamnit! Get your fricking ass up off the ground! my mind screamed at me. What was I going to do? Just chill here kicking on a street corner for three days and nights? I had to get up the stairs I could see clearly in the distance, the stairs to my only hope, my savior’s pad. With every ounce of strength I had left in my cruelly ravaged body, I staggered to my feet and began running the last half block to the apartment building, puking off to the side the entire way, trying not to get any on my already soaked-through, disgusting clothes.
>As I began climbing the staircase, I puked in the direction of a trash can, covering the top of it in black vomit. I continued painfully pulling myself up by the handrail next to the steps, foot by agonizing foot. I banged loudly on my dealer’s door and heard his small dog begin barking inside. In a second, he was there, opening the door in his pajamas, obviously just awakened by my insistent knocking.
>The minute he looked at me, Juan-Joseph knew what was happening. He put up his hand and in his thick Portuguese accent said, “One second.” He turned around, ran into his kitchen, and returned with a small trash container, which he handed to me to puke into. I said, “Toilet!” Pulling me by my arm into his place, he shoved me through the bathroom door. I narrowly avoided destroying my only pair of pants, getting them down a half second before the powerful, unstoppable explosion of the same black liquid ejected like a shotgun blast out of my ass as, at the same instant, I puked again into the bucket I held in my hand. When it was safe to get up for a moment, I went back into the other room.
>He sat me down on a chair in his small kitchen dining area where he’d already started to cook up a shot for me. I continued puking and heaving into the can. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I heard him muttering to himself in English, and then something else louder in his native tongue as he scurried around his kitchen, quickly preparing a dose for me. When finished, he turned to me and pantomimed the motion of sticking the syringe into his ass, a gesture that said it was no time to search for a vein, that I should just muscle the hit, something I already knew. I got the first hit into my asscheek while he was cooking up a second, and then a third. I stabilized enough to search for a vein with the fourth. Sickness finally killed, I fell into a dark, dreamless sleep, sitting halfway up on a loveseat in his living room.
>heroin makes you Engineer
jesus christ, that's what was in the cup
all art is made from experience
nearly everytime i snort fent i vomit
shits gross lol
>Yeah, heroin is wonderful.
>By the time the bus arrived at Heathrow, it was daylight and I was now on the verge of serious withdrawals. I knew from experience that my body had been generating a gutful of midnight-black venom for hours now. It took every bit of strength I had to not start shitting and vomiting it up, but I knew, no matter what, my body would soon begin to successfully purge. I walked to the Tube station, trying as hard as I could to literally hold my shit together.
>I got onto the train headed into King’s Cross. It was morning rush hour and getting off the crowded, standing-room-only train, I fought my way through the mob in a hurry to get to their jobs, being physically knocked around from person to person like a human pinball, a raw, skinless human pinball of all exposed nerves. The last three blocks to my dealer’s flat were the harshest. I had to stop frequently due to the severe contractions in my stomach up through my esophagus and the brutal cramping of all my limbs.
>A block from his place, I finally could not hold back any longer. I began to projectile vomit so hard that it took me to my knees, then flat out on the ground. Despite the fact that I’d not eaten any food in two days, up came copious quantities of pure-black liquid. I could not believe I had come so far and had gotten so close just to come up short here, practically on the doorstep of the doctor.
>Scatman Crothers in Stanley Kubrick’s film The Shining flashed through my brain. He’d flown all the way from Florida to Colorado, had taken a snowplow and driven in a blizzard all the way up to the Overlook Hotel to try and save the kid Danny, only to be axed as soon as he got through the door. I highly doubted any children’s lives would be saved by my demise here, less than a block from the dealer’s.
>I spasmed like a jellyfish on my side upon the hard concrete sidewalk, puking uncontrollably, tears streaming from my eyes. Through the hazy blur of my saltwater-flooded corneas, I could see a group of giggling, uniformed schoolkids walking around me where I lay incapacitated on the ground. They pointed at me and whispered to each other and then broke out into loud laughter as they passed by the pitiful scene of my public shame and sickness, displayed out before them in the crisp, cold morning air.
>Okay, goddamnit! Get your fricking ass up off the ground! my mind screamed at me. What was I going to do? Just chill here kicking on a street corner for three days and nights? I had to get up the stairs I could see clearly in the distance, the stairs to my only hope, my savior’s pad. With every ounce of strength I had left in my cruelly ravaged body, I staggered to my feet and began running the last half block to the apartment building, puking off to the side the entire way, trying not to get any on my already soaked-through, disgusting clothes.
>As I began climbing the staircase, I puked in the direction of a trash can, covering the top of it in black vomit. I continued painfully pulling myself up by the handrail next to the steps, foot by agonizing foot. I banged loudly on my dealer’s door and heard his small dog begin barking inside. In a second, he was there, opening the door in his pajamas, obviously just awakened by my insistent knocking.
Frick off wit this copy pasta. Breadshitter
No, but druggies are really that dumb, and if they're too lazy to learn an instrument, draw, do something halfway artistic or constructive, I could definitely see them romanticizing the drug use since it's the only fricking hobby they have.
>The minute he looked at me, Juan-Joseph knew what was happening. He put up his hand and in his thick Portuguese accent said, “One second.” He turned around, ran into his kitchen, and returned with a small trash container, which he handed to me to puke into. I said, “Toilet!” Pulling me by my arm into his place, he shoved me through the bathroom door. I narrowly avoided destroying my only pair of pants, getting them down a half second before the powerful, unstoppable explosion of the same black liquid ejected like a shotgun blast out of my ass as, at the same instant, I puked again into the bucket I held in my hand. When it was safe to get up for a moment, I went back into the other room.
>He sat me down on a chair in his small kitchen dining area where he’d already started to cook up a shot for me. I continued puking and heaving into the can. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I heard him muttering to himself in English, and then something else louder in his native tongue as he scurried around his kitchen, quickly preparing a dose for me. When finished, he turned to me and pantomimed the motion of sticking the syringe into his ass, a gesture that said it was no time to search for a vein, that I should just muscle the hit, something I already knew. I got the first hit into my asscheek while he was cooking up a second, and then a third. I stabilized enough to search for a vein with the fourth. Sickness finally killed, I fell into a dark, dreamless sleep, sitting halfway up on a loveseat in his living room.
nice dealer honestly
>Is heroin really THAT good?
It's better.
I had to take some opiods for medical reasons once. It felt dreamy and I slept a lot.
People will steal suck dick kill for it and throw their entire life away even become houseless so it must be pretty good
Yeah.
Seriously considering picking up the habit.
Lofe is all going to go to shit anyway at least you'll have the joy of the high
Alright just don't bother me if you do please
>movie about heroin addicts
>somehow manages to be enjoyable and not depressing but without glamourising the lifestyle
How'd they do it?
>without glamourising the lifestyle
Yes. Some people may be genetically averse to it because of side effects like nausea or allergy but it's generally the tops. It's the feeling just before you doze off into a comfy blanket on Christmas Eve in injectable form.
Unfortunately life comes with guaranteed suffering and poppy juice would be too simple of a solution so expect hell if you ever make a habit of it and abstain.
For 10 seconds, then you just feel nothing. The rush is what people crave
that's cocaine stupid
Being a junkie and having heroin is great. Being a junkie and not having heroin is the worse experience ever.
So overall is being a junkie better or worse than being a sober tax slave in israeli clown world?
Yes but opioids are tricky. You have to hit them just right when you are naive to them and have 0 tolerance otherwise you're going to have a bad time. The big mistake most people who are new to them make is taking way too much which makes you too drowzy and sick to enjoy them.
If you're new to them and hit it just right it's magic, best thing you've ever felt and ever will feel, and after a few times it's gone, never to return no matter how much you chase it. It's not an inebriated or jittery or manic high that puts you in a different head space, it's just an "I feel fricking amazing, everything is great and there's nothing to worry about ever again" high. The people who you see abusing them long term isn't because it makes them feel great any more, it's because they can't forget how it felt that one time and want it back.
glowie post
>I feel fricking amazing, everything is great and there's nothing to worry about ever again
I had this with shrooms+weed. Just sitting in front of the mirror looking at the shamanic spirit man in it smiling at me while taking in the good feels that radiated from all around me.
The exact feeling I managed to produce then has never returned but I don't feel like all the other attempts I've made haven't been letdowns either, just different since they're all refreshing and good. For a couple weeks afterwards I keep feeling happy about the trip I had. I can go for months or years without thinking about needing more psychedelics so it doesn't make me that addicted. I do get constant cravings for weed though.
Psychedelics (LSD, shrooms, DMT specifically) are the most kino drug.
the only drug you need is a coffee and a cigarette
Coffee, cigarettes and cannabis for me, thanks
I had that temporary romance with coffee so I can understand. I just want comfy coffee time back...
and to project your mind upwards along the milky way toward Polaris
has nothing compared to cumming inside a 16 year old
Im on OxyContin right now and all it does is make me sleepy.
From what I’ve heard it is, but I don’t get anything out of opioids since I just get a rash and start itching. Psychedelics are so much more fun
Yes. You know that feeling you get when you cum? It's like that but 100x more powerful, like a wave that washes over your body.
i've been addicted to kratom and that's as close as I want to get to actual opiates
Ex heroin/coke/meth addict reporting in. Yes speedballs feel fricking godly. I've banged a few hot bawds in my 20's too, (oldgay here) and nothing comes fricking close to a good speedball. It's way different than just snorting coke or doing an oxy. It's an extreme heart racing INSAINELY euphoric rush from the coke, but instead of the anxiety one normally gets as the coke wears off and that super sad mood kicks in when the coke is gone, the heroin just slowly blankets you like a warm fuzzy euphoric blanket. The feeling you get from shooting up feels like a warm fuzzy feeling and the SECOND it hits your heart you feel it pulsate pure ecstasy through your whole body up into your head and down into your legs. God It's fricking wonderful, don't ever try it. My life turned into trainspotting basically overnight. Was selling all my stuff and getting kicked out of everywhere for 2 years before i got my shit together. Booze, and over the counter opiates barely feel good to me either 10 years later. It's true nothing really comes close after you've tried it. I still take kratom and kava reguarly but it really doesn't come close, its just a safe alternative to opiates/booze.
>I've banged a few hot bawds in my 20's too, (oldgay here) and nothing comes fricking close to a good speedball
this is the point i was making about the lust cult. they are obsessed about sex. but there are better things in life.
drugs will show you this.
then it's up to you to decide if your just going to chase dopamine highs or have a purpose in life
all those studies showing how people with a purpose in life aren't just chasing a dopamine high really shook me up too. crazy to think about
>over the counter opiates
Heroin/opiates suck. Why would you willingly choose to give yourself less energy and a raging fever unlike any you’ve ever felt if you try to stop.
>t. 27 year old who has used most drugs from meth to LSD to heroin but stopped on his 23rd birthday without attending AA/NA once lol
Literally the best thing on earth
Best drugs for losing weight?
>Best drugs for losing weight?
antibiotics everyday. you will have diarrhea and will barely absorb the calories you are eating
the getting off your ass and moving drug.
Just smoke and drink a lot of black coffee. You'll be skinny in no time.
Why did Mark frick over Tommy so bad? I get getting him hooked on heroin since Tommy offered to pay, and that's what junkies are down for. but stealing his sex tape and showing everyone? part of the reason Tommy wanted to try smack
Hard core drug users look so cool in the beginning
My coworker is an ex heroin addict and he's an insufferable prick that licks the bosses butthole. I don't care whatever he did to kick the habit he needs to get his anger checked and stop being an ass kisser for minimum wage. Maybe it's all he has now. It's like ex addicts have some militaristic attitude after they come off their addiction.
I snorted 3 grams of fentynal in an hour once. Was high af, but to be honest I'd rather a 5th of vodka.
Anyone else have experiences with dentists immediately prescribing you shit like valium and tylenol with codeine, even without you asking?
I have a ridiculous amount of tylenol codeine now from a dentist and pediatrist, and I only tried it once. Valium was TOO good and I never want to do it again. Why do doctors prescribe these drugs so quickly when they know the risks?
Because people are pussies that don't like pain. I purposely get 10hr tattoo sessions for PAIN.
coz most people are smart like you and don't abuse the drugs.
morons will pop them like candy and get hooked. ofc they're moronic so it doesn't affect their QoL at all.
to get you addicted so big pharma profits.
kelly macdonald was insanely hot in this movie
what is the meaning of this storyline
i read the book like 15 years ago and i remember her being more fleshed out in that. i think it was partly to show how he knew he was aging because everything he was into was lame to her. he actually seemed to like her too
she's insanely hot in everything
she's just insanely fricking hot
Well I've been given fentanyl for some surgeries. If heroin is anything like that it's heavenly.
When did fentanyl become the defacto opiate?
around 2018. not sure why, maybe it was easier to get a hold of after oxycontin was phased out or whatever
Hospitals have been using it in surgery for a few years now, it didn't take much for it to get out into recreational use. I think I first had a friend die from it in 2021
when china and the cartels hooked up soon they'll be no more heroin at all anywhere fentanyl can by synthesized no more pesky growing operations dealing with seasons and farmers just import the precurserrors from china or india and you can press millions of pills
The best thing to do with drug addicts or people who drink is to give them what they want, be polite. Then, once they've finished their glass, you pour them another one. And another one, and so on until they start saying for some silly reason "no thanks"
By then they should already be very easy to handle and you cqn proceed to hold them down and pour their holy water on their face and in their mouth until they start crying or something. They'll probably never drink again, so you'd be doing their incontinent asses a favor.
I used to be a heroin addict, needles and everything, it isn't like cumming with your whole body or whatever people say. The rush from shooting is intense but you only really get that on your first hit of the day. You get the most mileage out of the drug when you're heavily addicted, because you get to the end of the day, you haven't had a hit since shooting up in the bathroom at work, and that first hit is such a relief, the removal of the withdrawal symptoms combined with the high is like going from 0 to 100. That's what keeps people coming back, heroin feels best when not having it feels like the end of the world. When you go too long without a hit and you're losing your mind, that's the best hit you'll ever have in your life. And even if you kick it, the mark it leaves on your psyche is like a bad ex. You know she's a piece of shit that put you through hell but you still fantasize about fricking her. When you aren't going through withdrawal, or don't have some kind of pain in your life that you're trying to forget, heroin is pretty mid as drugs go.
interesting I've taken hydrocodone and oxycodone orally the high is subtle it's not in your face like meth or psychs you almost don't even notice the subtle mood improvement and relaxation IMHO
Yeah that's pretty much it, a few weeks back I was an idiot and bought a couple morphine pills and needles, I shot up 3 times total before I just ate the remaining pills and threw out all the syringes. The rush made me uncomfortable, the high was meh, and the thought of dying actually felt real and scary. I just don't enjoy it anymore. But in a few months time I'll probably catch myself jonesing for it again. That's what usually happens anyway, but I think it'll be different this time.
I feel like it's an escapism for morons. Are there any intellectuals known for their drug abuse?
I don't get the appeal of just being blacked out on anything
drinking beer and cider all day is fun and lets me escape from my many (many) problems
how exactly is drinking a bottle of whiskey or taking a shot of heroin and just passing out at like 2 in day even enjoyable?
It isn't enjoyable but spirits are a far more efficient and comfy way to get drunk than beer or cider. With beer and cider the amount of sheer liquid required to get a buzz is huge. I can drink a swig of vodka and be set for a nice little buzz while I cook dinner or something. No beer belly, no lethargy
Does LSD really leave you with an afterglow for weeks?
Yes. That's why people wont stop talking about their trips whether they were "good" or "bad" trips. (Even the bad trips are kinda kino after the fact unless you're seriously fricked up probably I wouldn't know)
I'm more interested in the afterglow than the insane trip because I feel like life totally lost the spark like 4 years ago and all descriptions of the afterglow sound like how I felt like every day until I was 26 years old. It's dopamine doing some shit, not a dopamine hit but just a high baseline of dopamine
the trip that i mentioned wasnt "insane".
it was low dose. it's just in conjuction with edibles it was like i was just floating in a heavenly feeling.
i dont even like mind blowing wacky crazy hero dose trips that much. the afterglow sticks longer this way though.
but for you just the microdosing would probably be good. i've tried it for a couple months and it did make me more energetic and optimistic about shit in general but keeping up a scheduled habit like that isnt for me and i prefer taking those low dose pauses to life occasionally instead.
my uncle who was an alcoholic for 30 years hasnt drunk since he started.
If you drink coffee you're an addict.
Ive only taken oxys and its pretty damn great.
>Is heroin really THAT good?
Theres a fricking why its romanticized as the gold standard of street drugs. No ones taking crack and making a #1 song about the experience. No one does documentaries about weed addicts, lol. No one cares about a meth addict/ artist who goes on a emotional rehab interview. Morphine? LOL
Heroin is and will forever be the scary succ under the bed.
Yes, and Scotland is actually much worse than depicted.