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toastiko · 4 years

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An Update & A Story

Hi guys. I’m finally taking action against my weed dependency. Each day, I’m taking one less hit than the day before. I actually haven’t tried quitting since I went cold turkey, the week before last Christmas. I was only able to stay sober until Christmas day for those wondering. Aside from the one visit to my father in February earlier this year, I’ve smoked every day since Christmas, 2019.

Now I lay here in bed, mostly sober and slightly depressed, wondering, how? How did weed become the top priority in my life?

These thoughts manifested during my sober week before Christmas, but now that I’m laying here, out of weed and sober enough, I can actually put my thoughts into words. Anyway, the main reason I started to abuse marijuana was because of my move from Michigan to Oklahoma (July 1st 2017). But there were a lot of small events that also contributed to the abuse too. The beginning of the abuse started around three years ago, but before we talk about that, you need to know how I was brought up.

This next part is for my friends who I didn’t grow up with. Read it if you want, you won’t make me cry if you don’t.

Parts of the story below may sound like me just bragging. If you take it that way, that’s on you. I’m just trying to be as detailed as possible so people can get a proper understanding of how I was raised.

In 2001, I was adopted at birth in Jackson, Mississippi. (I’ve always grown up knowing that I was adopted and some people think it’s a really touchy subject for me even though I couldn’t care less. In fact, I used to joke about it before my sense of humor vanished ) I was born with my feet completely backwards, or in other words, I had severe clubbed feet. At the age of 2, I had surgery and spent a year in walking casts. During that time, my parents and I in lived in a mansion until 2005, when hurricane Katrina came and shreked everything. So we moved to Oklahoma and lived in a low class barn for around 8 months. In 2007, my dad got a job offer in Lansing, Michigan, and that’s really when my life ‘started’.

The first memory I have of Michigan is driving down our beautiful dead end street with my eyes glued to the falling snow which I had never seen before. We lived in a three story house with a front yard the size of a soccer field and a backyard half the size of a soccer field, with a lake right behind it. Yeah, I had it good, but I didn’t even realize at the time because it was normal to for us to live in big houses. Now the two houses next to us had neighbors with kids my age. JC was one of these kids. The kid was huge - not fat, but well built. He was a French Canadian American who had lived there since birth. If I met him today for the first time, I don’t think we’d be friends, but JC, though he was the same age as me, felt like an older brother. He was disciplined (mostly), goofy, and a little arrogant at times, but we always had a good time when we got together. So most days after school, instead of hanging out with my best friend who lived far, far, down the road, I hung out with JC, and that’s what my life was like after school almost every day until he moved in 2014 (2015? I don’t know)

Now let me tell you about my parents. My dad is an American Armenian who was told by his parents as a child that he was going to grow up to be a heart surgeon, so that’s what he did. He’s disciplined, hardworking, wise - he’s pretty much the smartest person I know. But growing up, I despised him. He lacked empathy and could be extremely insensitive at times. But when things would go bad for me, he always knew exactly what to say and he knew how to get his point across. But I hated him while living in Michigan because I was obsessed with ONLY having fun and playing video games with my friends and he abhorred video games. He would guilt trip me when he’d walk into my room and find me playing something. One time, he even took away my xbox 360 after I failed a test, and said he’d give it back after a week. I never got it back. Despite the negatives, he taught me to not let my emotions get the best of me, he taught me how to remain calm, how to be humble, and so much more.

My mom, on the other hand is the COMPLETE opposite of my dad. She’s outgoing, sensitive, gullible, and unlike my dad, she could befriend ANYONE she meet. When she passes homeless people, she ALWAYS gives them money out of sympathy. To make it clear how nice she is, if you sat Hitler down with her for some tea, Hitler would leave with his mustache shaved, and with a big, teeth grinning smile. She can make anyone like her. My mom spoiled me beyond senseless. She’d end my punishments early, she’d buy junkfood that the neighbors would eat up the next day, and she would buy me whatever I wanted under $200 and then say “Just don’t tell your father!” Even most of my friends at one point said, “Why can’t your mom be my mom?” However, my mom liked and still likes to live in a world where her feelings come before facts. She tends to get ripped off or scammed a lot when she bought stuff online or in person. Not to mention she sometimes follows the crowd instead of thinking critically. Ignoring her flaws, my mother taught me empathy, compassion, and love.

So having parents that were polar opposites from each other really balanced me out as a kid. I was (and still am) a shy boy, but I was quick to open up to whoever I trusted. Unless I was fighting with my parents, I rarely let my emotions control me. I’d be humble and respectful in public and or at school, and then I’d be my immature, batshit crazy and edgy self with my friends.

My school life was okay. In 1st grade, I met my best friend, Christian.

2nd grade I had surgery on my feet again and missed 6th months of school. When third grade came, my dad convinced my mom to hold me back a grade since I missed so much and they switched me over to a private school. I cried and begged them to keep me in the same grade but the answer was ‘nope’. Today, I’m glad they held me back.

Life at the private school, STM, was vastly different than the public school I’d been going to. My grade had about 20 kids and I was the oldest there. All the boys were little jocks. Obsessed with sports. I played soccer and baseball a year before but sports wasn’t really my thing. The boys were nice to me though and I became friends with them, though I barely had anything in common with them. So I turned to the girls. I befriended most of the girls, and even sat at their side of the table at lunch everyday. I had a huge crush on a girl named Casey, and funnily enough, so did all the other boys. So I spent 2nd and 3rd grade trying to slide into Casey’s DM’s and by the end of the third grade, I was in. Well, I mean, we were extremely close. I went to her house, she went to mine, and I was a happy boy. So far, life was going well.

4th grade came and I was scared. Rumor had it that the 4th grade teacher was a mean bitch, and half of my other classmates had switched schools, leaving 9 kids in the class. So I convinced my parents to pull me out and move me to a bigger private school. STA.

This is where shit went down. I went to STA from grade 4 to grade 8. One day, in 5th grade, when we were all edgy, horny boys who had sex ed coming up in a week , eight of us went outside and I recorded a video of one of my friends, goofily explaining how to have sex in five steps. I uploaded the video to Youtube in 2013 titled, ‘Nick’s 5 special steps.’

Two days pass, and I’m sitting in my homeroom with the eight other boys and suddenly two of the school’s priests come in. I remember one thing Fr. A said that day. He made eye contact with every boy in the room besides me, and said,

“I hope to see you all in reconciliation because you all have a lot to atone for.”

I thought this was funny because I was Lutheran and didn’t do reconciliation.

In a smart move, my dad made me delete my first youtube channel, epickarek, in fear that the school would file a lawsuit since the video showed minor’s faces.

After that incident, life was pretty normal and uneventful up until 8th grade. In February, 2016, I was expelled. My friends at STA abhorred me. Those who were my friends a mere two days ago started sending me death threats.

I started going to therapy and went to the public middle school in my area. Switching to that school was one of the best changes in my life. I made sure to tell no one about why I switched schools and within a few days, I had friends in every class. Not close friends, but friends that you could sit down at lunch and have a chat with.

I started hearing the rumors during my second week there. One day, in math class, the girl in front of me, Savannah, turned around and asked out of nowhere, “Did you kill someone? I heard you did.” The classroom was tiny and there were about 8 people in the class so everyone heard, including the teacher, and they turned toward me, waiting for an answer. Instantly, I faintly laughed and said something along the lines of “I wouldn’t be sitting here if I did.” Everyone laughed and the class continued. The next day, it seemed like all 200 kids in my grade were focused on me. People constantly approached me, asking crazy questions and telling me the absurd rumors they heard.

“I heard you stabbed someone.”

“Did you stab yourself?”

“What’s juvie like?”

“My friend at your old school says not to trust you. What did you do?”

The rumors drew more people to me, and ironically, I befriended most of those people once they saw that I wasn’t a psychopath.

When the summer of 2016, came, I had my first serious girlfriend. Despite my parents being on the verge of a divorce, my life was at it’s peak. I had a girlfriend, a best friend, and a whole group of friends who felt like brothers.

The next thing I know, It’s Christmas break and I’m in Oklahoma visiting family and she breaks up with me... for one of my friends. That led me to become super depressed, and angry. Very angry. Most of my friends were there for me. But talking about the breakup openly is the reason why everything went downhill from there. TLDR, My Ex, and myself BOTH overreacted.

I’m not going to tell the whole story online, but If you really want to know, I’ll tell you in person.

Anyway, to shorten a long story, I got a call from my ex’s father saying if I don’t stay away from her, her family will take legal action. So, fearful of court, I respected his demand and stayed away. The next day when I got home from school, I found a FAT stack of papers on the kitchen table labeled, Personal Protection Order, aka a restraining order. I was furious and I stupidly posted to snapchat out of rage, roasting her about it. And within the next week, my family was in court with her’s. The judge, was the same judge who was working my parent’s divorce, (I don’t know why or how that’s allowed) and she did not like my dad, but she especially did not like my mom. Anyway, the PPO said on the front page that I wasn’t allowed to talk about her, ANYWHERE. Online or in person. so that’s why I was there. The judge banned me from the internet for until 2018 and I went home.

Stupidly, I violated the PPO twice after that (The judge then banned me from social media until 2019) and after the third time in court, the judge insulted my mother for how she raised me and I was found guilty, put into a squad car, and SHIPPED.

Like I said, if you want to know more details, just ask me in person. I’m getting pretty good at telling the story.

Fast forward a few weeks and it’s the last day of my freshman year of high school. I’ll never forget that day. I watched the people in my grade throw their hands up, celebrating and rushing out the doors, and I remember just standing there thinking, “I’m never going to see these guys again.”

What’s even worse was the fact that I was going to have to leave my group of around 8-12 friends. And a few prior to the move, my best friend of 8 years ended our friendship because he was upset that I didn’t tell him that I was moving sooner. If that’s how he really felt, I don’t blame him, for I was depressed and acting strange.

My best friend strayed away from our group when he stopped talking to me so I really only had a few select people in my friend group that I could really call friends. Dillion, Josh, Keaton, Brock, (even maybe Preston) although I only spent around a year with them, we had powerful connections with each other. They felt like brothers. So when my mom said she was moving to Oklahoma, I was destroyed. I wasn’t going to let my mom move alone, but I was going to have to leave my support group. It was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever made. I remember the week before we moved, I drove all around Lansing, listening to the Guardians of the Galaxy II playlist and feeling numb.

Then we moved

Within two months of moving to Oklahoma, smoking weed had become a daily habit. I had already been introduced to it by some friends before I moved, so I was familiar with the drug. At first, It diminished my guilt. I didn’t have to think about my friends I left or my old best friend...

I didn’t have to constantly think about the nice cop leading me out of the downtown courthouse into his car in some loose handcuffs.

I didn’t have to think about being in that dark, concrete solitary cell for two days, going crazy thinking that my white, skinny ass was going to juvie for 21 days like the judge said...

I didn’t have to think about the satanic, traumatizing things I did to that person in 8th grade that I still struggle to forgive myself for....

I didn’t have to think about anything if I just smoked my problems and sadness away.

My first three days as a sophomore were miserable. I had already been to 7 different schools (ask me) and I was exhausted with the thought of having to start over with making new friends. So me, already depressed, convinced my mom to let me do online classes at home.

By the summer of 2018, my cousin had introduced me to his group of friends and we all got along pretty well. We smoked everyday until the end of summer. As fall drew near, I was PARANOID. I was two years younger than most of my friends and I thought I was annoying to them and felt like I intruded on their group, so I distanced myself. I stopped snapping the group chat and stopped inviting them over. I pushed them away because I was paranoid. I had never been as paranoid as I was until I started smoking weed.

2019 came and despite it being the end of my internet ban, I was broken. Being high was the new sober. My highs started turning into a buzz and only a buzz. It didn’t make me laugh or smile, it just made me a lazy husk that played video games and watched youtube endlessly.

When the summer of 2019 arrived, my cousin came to spend the summer with me. Now, I don’t want to rant about other people anymore so I’ll just say this. He knew I was broken. It was clear as day; I’d wake up, sit at my desk all day, then go to sleep. Despite my attempts at open conversation, he was never willing to be vulnerable with me, even when Etika died. So when the end of summer came, we were both very condescending and passive aggressive toward one another.

After that summer, I was left still high, insecure, mean, emotionless, and lonely. I didn’t want to contact my Michigan friends because was a little bitch. I was afraid they would see what I’d become and they’d distance themselves from me, so I turned to the internet. I knew that I had fans and friends that waited two years for my return, so I started streaming. All was going well, but despite all of my internet friends, I wasn’t happy. Not knowing the source of my unhappiness, I continued to smoke and stream, slowly ignoring my internet friends over time, and I continued neglecting myself.

Then mid December came. I don’t remember how it happened, but I stopped smoking for a week. It was during that week that I realized what I just typed above. I was emotionless - I hadn’t genuinely laughed in months, I felt pressured to stream. My relationships sucked and were fading day by day, so I stopped smoking.

Christmas soon came and to simply put it, I relapsed. One small hit. That’s all it took. I took one tiny vape hit on Christmas evening and I’ve been smoking everyday since then.

I’ve wrote this not because I want pity, but because I want to help my friends understand me a little better.

To all of my friends, I know I’ve been distant from all of you. Please, just be a little more patient with me, I’m getting there. :)

Anyway... I started writing this mini essay on July 31st and I’ve spent 6 days working on this. I’ve never talked about some of this stuff openly so it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. My final thoughts are in my post that precedes this. Thanks for reading, I love you all, be safe, don’t catch the VID, and remember,

Dicks out for Harambe.

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