DISCLAIMER:  This is <u>fictional</u> story.  It is an instalment of a series of <u>fictional</i> stories involving 
drug use as a central plot theme.  <i>Reader discretion is advised</i>.  The provision of this story over the Internet, or 
through any other means of communication, is not to be interpreted as a suggestion or recommendation to use drugs.  The 
reader assumes any and all responsibilities derived from his or her actions.


2008 05 17, Paranoia or Panic Attack?, by George Bookman


     I’ll end the suspense now.  I did not get high last night.  I didn’t even get drunk.

     Of course, the party was fun nonetheless.  One doesn’t <i>need</i> drugs to have fun, although fun can often be 
enhanced by drugs.

     Last night, we played a variety of games, including the greatest game ever to be created, Mafia.  We also talked, 
about philosophy, about global warming, about poetry, about relationships, about economics, and about drugs.  Since this 
journal is devoted to the drug question, and since I was not actually high last night, I will refrain from discussing all 
that happened at the party and focus simply on the relevant (<i>i.e.</i> drug-related) conversations.

     First, although I was completely sober, many of my friends that night were drunk.  This lead one friend, Bobby, to 
break down and cry.  A lot of things are going on in Bobby’s life, and being drunk last night probably didn’t help him 
out much.  I sincerely hope he’s feeling better now.

     Another friend, Laurel, said some things about her own relationship that she claimed she would not have said had she 
not been drunk.

     Alcohol is not my drug of choice.  It leaves me feeling very uncomfortable.  And besides, most alcohols taste like 
shit, anyway.  Moreover, they leave you feeling like shit the next day.  So, I had no intention of drinking.

     I would have smoked some pot had any been available, but none was.  Again, no big loss.  I had immense fun.

     As one may recall, my previous two entries in this journal had been about the sensation of paranoia resulting from 
the use of pot.  Since this party was held at Boris’s house, I decided to use the opportunity to ask him about his 
experience so as to clarify.

     He told me that he had not actually experienced “paranoia,” but rather a panic attack.  His heart started to race, 
and he thought he might be experiencing a heart attack.  He said that this was not after a prolonged period of not using, 
but rather before.  It was because of these panic attacks, which he started getting whenever he smoked up, that he decided 
to stop smoking.  It was after a year or two that he decided to try again, and since he did not experience the panic 
attack, he realised he was safe to once again start using.

     This clears a lot up.  For example, whereas I described this feeling in previous entries as “paranoia,” I never 
actually felt that anyone was out to get me.  I was under constant understanding that I was safe and unlikely to get 
caught.  So, I now realise that I was probably being completely misleading when I used the term “paranoia” in my previous 
entries.  This was, as Boris described it, a panic attack.  My heart was racing, and I felt panicky.

     Apparently the only drug Boris had in his house was ecstasy.  I’ve personally never used E, because I fear the 
negative consequences to my health and the feeling of depression that comes the next day.

     There is one thing, however, that has me rethinking this.  Bobby has only ever used ’shrooms and E—no other drugs.  
He tells me that E was the worse experience of his life, and that he would never do it again.  I assume that means he was 
left in such a horrible state the next day that the decrease in utility more than outweighed his increase in utility on 
the day he used it.  If I have a similar experience, I oughtn’t have any desire to use it any more than Bobby.

     On the other hand, given how much Laurel and Boris like it, and how each wishes to do it again, I’m left with the 
fear that I may wish to do it again, as well, <i>i.e.</i> if I were to try it.

     So, as of right now, I have no intentions to try it.

     Discussion of E followed by a discussion of acid.  Acid is a drug I would like to try.  Apparently Boris and Han have 
both used it since I last hung out with the two of them.

     For whatever reason, we were also talking about sex simultaneous with this discussion.  It is claimed by Boris that 
one cannot possibly have sex on E or on acid, as the drugs prevent you from getting an erection.  To this, Han replied 
that he did have sex while on acid, although it was toward the end of his trip.

     I’ve never had sex on any drug, although I have no doubt one can easily have sex on pot, and think it would be an 
extremely pleasurable experience.

     After that, any drug-related talk was focused on the drug known as alcohol, given that various members of this 
gathering were drunk.  The only drugs anyone consumed that night were alcohol and tobacco.  I really don’t see the point 
to tobacco.  Why get one’s self addicted to such a pointless—and expensive—drug?  Addiction is something I wish to 
avoid, which is why I prefer pot, a drug to which I’m obviously not addicted (given that I so easily ceased using for 
more than a year).

     Nothing else to add right now.  I still want to ask my mom if she ever said anything to me when I was young as I 
described in my first entry of this journal.  I’ve not done so yet.  But, alas, nothing more to add now.  Until next time…


• The above story is entirely fictional. Any similarity to real persons is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. •