EDIT: ESH. I’ve been an asshole without realising it, and my friends really weren’t open about the drama until very recently. I was right, though–I’m terrible at explaining myself. We agree drugs aren’t a problem for me, but I should keep discussion light. Kairos–there is a time and a place for everything.

(My app doesn’t allow marking posts as NSFW. I don’t know whether this should be considered NSFW or not, but I can’t mark it anyway. I’ll sign in on desktop later, if need be. An admin can also do the courtesy of marking it for me. Thank you, regardless.)

Sorry if this is all a little disorganised.

2025 has been a good year for me, despite everything. I’ve made my first attempts to meet new people, thanks to guidance from people on this very platform, and things are finally looking up. I feel productive and somewhat healthy. I feel like I’m in a position to help others, even though things look bleak for all of us.

Except for one problem.

I use drugs more than any of my friends. I’m the only one who’s done DXM, for instance, and I constantly read about new things to try. I’d do opium, even, given the chance. So, that’s the problem, then. I do drugs.

No. No, it isn’t, actually.

The actual problem is that I put so much effort into research, so much effort into considering what’s actually safe to use, so much effort into making sure I don’t overuse them, so much effort into considering doses, so much effort to make sure it doesn’t impact others negatively, so much effort. That’s despite their history of being upset towards me, and nobody cares. My friends constantly pester me for taking a “dark path”, and every argument I make to try to object to that results in me being called some form of disabled, or immature, or stupid. One outlier online even called me multiple slurs, claiming my actual mental disorders are also completely fake.

Here’s a good question that should be pretty easy to answer. Which one’s hurting me more? The drugs, or the people? Because the problem certainly isn’t the one that actually keeps me in a good, level-headed, sane headspace, that I use with care–and absolutely the one causing me all this mental turmoil in the first place.

Drugs are a human right. I have a right to determine what goes in my body, and I’ve been exceptionally careful, thanks to the help I was never given. I helped myself. I was suicidal, I pursued DIY psychedelic therapy, and now I find myself on a journey that I couldn’t be happier with.

Yet none of that is enough.

Perhaps more science than I’ve provided already will be enough. Maybe the two week break I’m on will satisfy them. Maybe I should spell it out–their drugphobia, and unwillingness to accept different viewpoints, or consider my history, strongly mirrors homophobia and transphobia.

Let me make a point. They all drink alcohol. Alcohol is more addictive, and harmful to the user and others (in the form of drunk driving), and is considerably more dangerous than heroin. Yet, they’ll criticise me for using poppers, despite the fact that poppers are considered safer, according to Drug Science, than any other drug they looked in to. That’s safer than magic mushrooms, possibly the safest drug in existence, arguably. It’s the most widely accepted risk index in the world. Mind you, some of these friends have also used nicotine, too. Also far more dangerous than what I do. I have as well, of course, but I’m considering not using nicotine or alcoholic products ever, not even on occasion. That’s in contrast to them. Alcohol hurts the body, and drinking less simply slows the process. None of the drugs I use have such a long-term negative effect.

I’m also the only one that estimates my BAC with a calculator every time, but whatever. Thanks for that suggestion, S.

They have no right to criticise me for the very same thing they do on a regular basis. We even smoke weed, and nobody has a problem with it. Probably because it’s not taboo enough… anymore.

It’s hypocrisy, because I’ve actually been safer than them, despite using a wider variety of substances.

I have a small handful of people who’ve been actually supportive, including someone I had just met. They applaud me for the effort I’ve put in to stay safe, and I’m glad to have those kind of people in my life. Some of them have been through incredibly rough patches (it seems like these types are the few with empathy, anymore). Some of them are just open minded. Regardless of their background, though, it’s clear that they’re far more empathetic than some of the people in my primary friend group.

I’m angry, and it’s caused by the very people claiming to “help” me. They aren’t helping. They’re outright berating and slandering me, and at this point, I’m considering simply dropping them. However, I’m a productive person, and simply walking away from my problems is unacceptable by my standards. There’s a peaceful resolution to this, and I intend to find it.

I’m not wrong, am I? As much as I’ve been gaslit over the years, I still think I can see through it all–through all the self doubt, all the people who claimed I’d never be enough. Despite all of that, I’m not suicidal, or even depressed.

So please tell me I’m right. Thanks for reading all this, if you did.