What is something you have tried, but will never do again?


I managed to get to the age of 21 without having encountered cocaine. The drug was so much not a part of my world that I didn't actively think about avoiding it because it was not a factor in my life. I'd never even physically seen it or heard of people doing it other than in movies and television.

Then there was the day I encountered it for the first time.

I had just graduated from college and was at a friend's parents' house for a graduation party they were throwing in her honor. We had a small posse of five girlfriends, all spending the night together at my friend's childhood home. My room overlooked the Blue Ridge Mountains, and the view was spectacular.

After the party her parents had thrown was over, the five of us went to a post-party party at the house of someone with whom my friend had gone to high school. We had been drinking all afternoon and - while not drunk - we were tipsy.

The house was packed. There were at least 40 people there, and I didn't know a soul other than the girls in my posse, but everyone was kind and welcoming. I ended up in the den sitting on the sofa in what morphed into a large circle of people. People were all introducing themselves to one another. It reminded me of the name games we used to play in Girl Scouts, and I did my best to pay attention, but I was seriously sleepy after a long day of celebrating.

The next thing I knew, the guy sitting next to me, with whom I had been having a great philosophical conversation, had passed me a CD case with two lines of cocaine on it. I looked at him with a perplexed expression, and he said, "Go ahead. Help yourself."

So I did. I didn't even think about it. Maybe it was the fact that I had been drinking and my inhibitions were lowered. Maybe it was that I was in a strange situation with a group of people for whom this seemed like normal behavior and my inclination was to go with the flow. Maybe I was just curious. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to impress the guy. Maybe it was the fact that I had never before encountered cocaine and had, therefore, never had to think about refusing it. Whatever factors contributed, I grabbed the CD case and used the rolled up dollar bill to snort one of the lines of cocaine. My new friend motioned for me to pass the CD to the person on my left, and I did.

I felt great. I got a second wind and was talkative and witty (at least I think I was). As the evening went on, the group kept passing the CD case around, and the group in the den kept getting smaller as people from the other side of the room moved in my direction to tighten the circle.

Each time the CD case came to me, I snorted a line. I had no idea what I was doing, and I can't explain (or understand) why, but I just didn't care about anything. I felt energetic and happy. All told, I snorted five rather large (apparently) lines of cocaine in about an hour. That's the last thing I recall from the party.

The rest of the evening is a blur until I was alone in the guest room of my friend's childhood home at about 2:00 a.m., and all of my friends were asleep in their beds. I felt stuffy and wanted fresh air. I opened the curtains to reveal a gorgeous moonlit view of the mountains and valley. My heart skipped a beat from the breathtaking sight, which brought my attention to my heart.

It was pounding. The rate was so fast I could barely tell one beat from the next. I opened the window to inhale some fresh air, then I climbed in bed to try to sleep. Sleep was elusive. My mind was racing, and I was so jittery that I couldn't lie down without starting to panic, even on my side.

I sat up in the bed, looking straight out the window, and thought, "Is this it? Am I going to die of a cocaine overdose? I just graduated from William and Mary last week. No one will believe this was the first time I've done it. I'll be labeled a druggie. My parents will be humiliated. All that money they spent on tuition - wasted. All because I tried some stupid thing at some stupid party."

For the next 30 minutes to an hour, I vacillated back and forth about whether to wait it out or seek medical attention or, at the very least, to awaken one of my friends. This was long before smart phones, so there was nothing I could Google - no hotline I could call other than 911 from the landline. My heart eventually calmed down, and I guess I finally fell asleep.

My next memory is of waking up in the morning hearing three of my friends talking in the hallway outside my bedroom door. I woke up feeling completely fine, my mind far from the torture of my late-night panic. My friends stopped talking as soon as I came out of the guest room in the hallway.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We're just going in together to buy a bag of coke to split up and take home with us." said one of my friends who, to my knowledge, had never tried cocaine before the night before, either. I looked at all three of them with a puzzled face, and they just kind of shrugged.

"YOU had a great night last night, Shannon, didn't you?" said the same friend. That's when I tried to remember the entire evening and realized there were some blank spots and that I really didn't know what she was talking about..

Our host friend came up the stairs to let us know breakfast was ready, and she quietly asked how much money my friends were putting in for the bag and how much she should get.

"I'd like to get in on that purchase if I could." I said.

That those words came from my lips after the night I'd had, certain that I was not going to make it until morning but too ashamed to reach out for help, haunts me to this day. My body must have been coming down off of a high and physically craving a "fix" to get back up. The words were said before I was even aware of the thought.

"None for you, miss thing!" said our host.

"No?" I asked.

Then my other three friends shook their heads and said, "NO!"

I didn't ask why. I didn't protest. I simply went downstairs for breakfast.

I have not touched cocaine since that night, and I never will. I'm forever indebted to my friend for, for whatever reason, realizing cocaine and I were not a good mix.

Five of the most important words I've ever heard were, "None for you, miss thing!" I'm more grateful for them than my friend will ever know.

Loving a person unconditionally !!

It was late evening at the office ground.. some kind of shit fair was going and me with some friends were making fun of every random person trying to compete into some kind of monotonous competition. That was the fortuitous moment I saw that Angel i pink-white salwaar suit and stroking her hands through her hair and I was like "Holy mother of God !! How can someone be so beautiful and graceful at the same time!!" But then she too lost that competition and my friends were too deep fucked bore to stare at people anyways so we left.

2nd day passed(sleeping,eating,watching Mad Men, missing her, watching Mad Men)..

3rd day passed(missing her, watching Mad Men, Buds,missing her, fighting with sister, missing mom, missing her,missing her, watching Trophy Tournament)

4th day passed(smoking up, smoking joint,smoking bong, smoking whatever I can fit in my Pipe)

5th day : In our daily scrum (which I hate more than Shraddha Kapoor) I saw my Manager smiling(teeth visible) and beside her I saw that Angel again smiling(teeth invisible) and I was like "Holy mother of God !! How can someone be so beautiful and graceful at the same time.. for the second time!!".Our eyes met instantly and somehow I knew that she's the one!! (these words were literally dancing in my head as in *What goes around comes around-Timberlake*).Yes she joined my project!!

Well Long story short... Secret Santa came to my rescue and I finally asked her out *I had to get that special gift for her* and things kicked off pretty well between us.. well at least for two months or something. She started giving less attention and I started giving more(starting of the new Aashiq Era!!). Some days down the line I proposed to her (U all guessed just now that she must have rejected this guy and Congrats u won!!).I was a bit down hearted but there's was nothing more than being with her, so we continued with our old routine as if nothing has changed.

I am an asshole.. A total shit mouth, sarcastic piece of shit always giving me priority over anyone. But Fuck me... I was mind-blown by this princess , my life's only motive was to take care of her and to keep her happy. At times I became a dick to her too.. we used to fight often and we fucking enjoyed it.We always had that tremendous energy between ourselves which had to be lashed out( pun not intended.. maybe sarcasm).I was so much in awe with my princess, from morning to night I was just so busy in her. Most of the times I would do her chores but I loved doing it and with every single day passing by I could see over bond getting stronger..

We were not BF/GF but we were never there in any other relationship(she had a lot of friends, some very close but no relationship, same with me).Sometimes I got jealous when I used to see her talking to a boy in a party or something.. again we had some fights but somehow we always came back to each other.Many months have passed and I continued to serve her and love her 24*7 and I was so happy!!

And Finally the day came!!! She accepted my prayers!! She told me that she loved me too!! I was so excited that I chopped off a bit from my tongue(but I never showed it to her!! acting cool ahh..) Now I have really started to see her as my future and us on a journey forever. But she had some other plans too(Masters in US). I was really happy for her and eagerly wanted her to get admission in the best college. Well she got her dream college and somehow I lost my dream girl.

I knew that it would be a new life for her and she would be thousand miles from me but nevertheless I'll always be her man. But Murphy's Law again proved to be sadly correct and me.. I proved to be a loser.A person who risked it all for someone.. lost it all to that someone *fucking miserably sad* . She told me that relationship was not possible between us.. I never lost hope, everyday with the start of the day I would send her a reason(genuine and straight from the heart) why I loved her. I begged to her that we can do this but then I realized she is done with me and my further actions will only irritate her.

Therefore I stopped chasing for her.. living my life here. I don't have any regrets because I know I have loved someone crazily and I loved every moment of it!!

The only unhealed wound is that i''ll never be able to love anyone and this will never change with time.Period.

A marijuana joint dipped in water.

(Spoiler alert: it wasn't actually water.)

I was a regular pot smoker when I was a senior in high school. It worked wonders for my anxiety and PTSD. I hung around with a crowd that also smoked frequently. They also did harder stuff, but I never joined them.

That is, until my roommates birthday party.

I was sitting on the couch with my then boyfriend and some of his homeboys. Someone produced a joint and lit it. My boyfriend took a hit and passed it to me. I held it up to my lips when somebody said ‘Whoa, Mami, that was dipped in water. Are you sure you want a drag?'

I'm picturing someone dropping it in a sink or a puddle. So I laugh and take a hit.

The world started to spin almost immediately. I lay back into the couch and tried to hang on for dear life.

I could hear people talking normally around me, but they sounded muted, like someone had put earplugs in my ears. Everyone was blurry, and I was very paranoid that someone was going to catch on to the fact that I really wasn't okay.

I could hear my boyfriend laughing and talking next to me. I couldn't make my mouth move. He held my hand, I couldn't hold his back.

I was practically a part of the couch.

I remember thinking that this was a really stupid way to die. That my poor boyfriend was going to have to explain to my parents that I was the first person in history to die from a marijuana overdose.

I willed myself several times to laugh, or move, or anything. I couldn't.

I felt numb. Like someone could've smacked my face and I wouldn't have felt a thing.

My boyfriend got up and I slumped over. He laughed and told one of the homies to help him get me to my bed. They pulled me up and the world started spinning out of control. Somehow they walked me down the hallway even though my legs felt like numb jello.

My boyfriend laid me down and covered me with a blanket, and reassured me that I would feel better once I slept it off. Not having much of a choice, I lay there until sleep overtook me.

When I woke up the next morning, I was fine again.

I stomped to my boyfriends apartment and banged on the door. He opened it and asked what my problem was.

‘What is water?!'

‘Are you still high?' He laughed.

‘No, the stuff the joint was dipped in!'

He got kinda quiet when he saw I was serious.

‘Amber, that water was actually embalming fluid...'

What. What?!

I never smoked a joint dipped in water again.

I feel sorry for a lengthy answer. Since the answer reveals a crucial message to all addicts and those who are in the verge of becoming addicts, I am forced to write it in detail.

Which part of the brain is providing pleasure to us?

Nucleus accumbens is our pleasure center.

In the brain, pleasure has a distinct signature: An important part of the reward pathway is shown and the major structures are highlighted: the ventral tegmental area (VTA), the nucleus accumbens, and the prefrontal cortex.

Puberty comes with pimples.

I remember being more worried about my skin than my board exams.

My dad got fed up of his cribbing teenager.

He took me to a skin specialist. My doctor was an M.D. from AIIMS, Delhi. So he had the stamp of trust.

I was so excited to see the Skin God who will magically fix my skin and liberate me from all the esteem sucking pimples.

Well, the first meeting was nice. Consultation fee could have bought me a dress from Zara, but priorities!

Doctor gave me 4–5 medicines. Syrups, tablets and creams. I bought them, of course. Used them for a week.

Long story short, my skin was worse.

Now as you know, I am a forgiving person. So I went back and showed him what happened.

I have to tell you. His Skin God image was shattered but I kept my patience.

He was writing me some more medicines and meanwhile he was chit chatting with my dad about politics. He was a passionate AAP (Aam Aadmi party) supporter.

I saw a lady's picture on his desk and I asked (impulsively), "Is that your wife?"

He eyes gleamed. He said, "Yes."

Then he went on to tell us that she was his batchmate at AIIMS. They fell in love and so on and so forth.

Then he remarked excitingly, "She is so beautiful. And you know what? She is a natural. 10 years of our marriage and I have never seen her using any chemicals on her skin. Only organic stuff. And look, she hasn't aged."

Only if he was more passionate about AAP than his skin specialist wife (he did get carried away talking about her), I would have gone back to his clinic.

I took his wife's advice. Switched to home remedies. Saved my dad a lot of money too.

Skin is amazing btw!

Moral of the story: Always ask about the lady in the picture and never over interact with clients/customers/patients.

It was during the half yearly exams of class 8. I didn't prepare my history lessons at all, thanks to which I had absolutely zero idea about what was there in the syllabus. The only thing I knew was that it was a himalayan one and certainly impossible to cover in one night before the exam day.

I was clueless yet desperate to pass.

I went up to my friend whose seat in the exam hall was just in front of me, to discuss strategies that could be mutually beneficial to us the next day. Thankfully I came up with a plan to which he agreed.

Both of us made cheats throughout the night. I was tasked with copying the first half of the syllabus while he would cover the other half.

The cheats were so vast that we had to make content indices in front of them for convenience of finding answers! Somewhat like this..

What should I know about Idaho before moving there?

Idaho seems to be a state of transplants.I'm not native to Idaho.Actually, in my family only my sister can claim that distinction.I was born in Louisiana, raised in Idaho.My dad was born in Seattle, Washington, raised in Idaho.My mom was born in California, raised in Texas and Idaho. Her family bounced back and forth.You know

Do the Irish genuinely not like the Brits?

I'm English and pretty much the only times I have experienced any anti-English sentiment was from Irish people.My local pub in London was an Irish pub (ie Irish owned and with a lot of Irish regulars, not an Irish "theme pub" like most all over the world are). My then girlfriend worked there so I was