CronoTriggerfan wrote:...Again, my hate for marijuana isn't so much because "OMGIT KILLZ T3H BABIEZ", but because the people who use it are weak and stupid to begin with. Not to mention most of them are politically retarded little anarchists.

Before you say something like that, CTF, understand what you're saying. I'll be upfront with you. I've been into drugs. Not weed. Worse drugs. Ones that have side effects that will last my entire life. I have to deal with that. I'm ashamed of that. But I'm neither weak, nor stupid. I have a far above average IQ. But thats not the point.
Drugs, for me, were attempted suicide. Thank heaven I failed, because the pain I went through was totally worth it now that I'm engaged to an incredibly beautiful and intelligent woman.
I did drugs for one year, to the day. I literally stopped the same day I started. I started it because a very close friend of mine killed herself. I'll spare you the major details of how, but the fact was that she was more than a thousand miles away (Literally on the other side on the planet), and I had to listen to her do it, and not be able to stop her. I can go through, in my head, every sound that the gun she used (I assume her dads') made. Every action. Every click and sound, down to the final charge from the starter cap firing the gunpowder inside the bullet. I did not want to live with having to hear that sound every waking minute, and dreaming about it every damn night. But I didn't have the guts to just finish the job. I guess in a way, I wanted to suffer the way she must have in order to want to kill herself.
And I did. For three-hundred and sixty-five days. Until I just said; "You know what... You're not gonna die. You're just gonna have to live with the fact that shes dead, and cherish the fact that she chose you to be the one who was with her. Give up. Let it go.". So I did. I pitched every bag and vial I owned out the window. I cried. I yelled for it to all have been a dream. But it wasn't.
Today, still...I wonder if I could have done something for her. I wonder if it was my fault.
But I'm not weak. Not because I care. Not because I did drugs. Not because I didn't live the perfect life without pain, or betrayal. Not for any reason. To borrow form the old phrase "What doesn't kill you will make you stronger."... It didn't kill me. And I'm stronger. I was never weak, but I'm more of a man today because of what happened. I'm more of a man today than most people my age. More mature.
Am I the only one with pain? No. I wouldn't ever say that. But I do know what pain is.
So as a favor, CTF... Think about who and what your talking about before you say anything. Because I, for one, am greatly insulted by your close mindedness, and holier-than-thou attitude on this topic.