So I found myself the other day in my underwear in the hallway of my condo, locked outside. This is because the doors lock themselves, not because I'd been kicked out or anything. A concerned neighbor saw enough of my ass and decided to call Arlington Police. Naturally, people don't hang out in public places in their underwear, complaining about a broken ankle (actually a wicked sprain) and needing to be let back in to their home. APD arrived, broke into my home, and grabbed three bottles of drugs. Tegretol, Lithium carbonate, and [REDACTED]. One APD officer, one of those gorilla types with biceps bigger than their head, clutches the lithium in a deathgrip and shoves it in my face.
"You're going to prison for this, buddy!"
I ponder. I think to myself, why on earth would anyone want to take lithium recreationally? It makes you feel like shit. Unless, of course, your body needs it, in which case, you just feel "normal," not "high." Anyways, so I reply, "really?"
"Do you know how many kids abuse this stuff?"
"No, frankly, I'd be surprised. How many?"
Hmmmm. I mean, what a complete nitwit. The paramedics, duly summoned, informed my simian custodian that lithium was in fact not especially useful as a recreational drug, to which he grunted, and began looking for some other nuance to prosecute. I, ladies and gentlemen, am a criminal. A criminal so dastardly, I seek to maintain my mood at such a level that the rest of you don't find me so offensive.
I really have very little faith in humanity when things like this happen. Like, why do I bother working my ass off to be presentable to everyone else when I think faster, act quicker, and am generally more "me" without the fucking drugs. Why do I bother, if I'm just going to be told I'm a criminal for needing them to begin with?