… How did you get rid of the wasps? Or is it a ‘they live here now, Bob’s the king of section 3-b’ sort of thing?

215 so far. Just a lot of doom posting, or politics.

Whenever another guy recommends something I find repulsive, for various reasons, I tend to write off most respect I had for that person.
Lately some guys have talked positively about Andrew Tate, and it’s just made it easier for me to know who is a gullible prick and who to avoid.

Not long after my mother recovered from chemotherapy, my grandmother passed away. I was tasked with disposing of my mother’s morphine, however I decided to take it for relief.

I was addicted not to the feeling of being numb so much, but the initial euphoria. I would snort the morphine in powder form. I know I did some rudimentary conversion, however after kicking it I forgot every single step and cannot remember a lot of that time.
Over a year had passed, yet my knowledge of it is very little. It feels as though I have lost parts of my life… Like I mean, literally lost.

The euphoric kick got less and less prevalent, and I felt as though I needed more in order to gain that initial kick - however I wasn’t even aware of this effect happening, despite all manners of media being rife with this step of opiate addictions. The act of increasing dosages came so naturally I don’t even think I made a conscious decision to, yet my tolerance rose to points where I was taking multiple times the lethal dose (for someone with base tolerance levels).

I saw what it was doing to me at one point, just by happenstance of looking into the mirror for a moment longer than usual.

I went cold turkey, and it was… Well, hell doesn’t even describe how this felt. It took about a couple of weeks, with the first being the worst.
I had locked myself up in my room, telling some folks to check up on me periodically, online friends mainly, and what to do if I don’t respond within a given time. I recall a moment where one of my friends was about to call an ambulance, because I was one minute late to answer (I was probably vomiting profusely).

The very last time I did that was in the second or third week of November, 2012.

I understand that going cold turkey could be very dangerous, especially with a built up tolerance, however at that point I would not have been able to wean myself off of the stuff. I was too far in, and without going extremely hard into it I probably would have died not too long after.

If you have a friend going through opiate addiction, please be there for them. That’s all I can say.

They taught OP how to use a spoon and wipe his bum, and he’s making it sound like it would be a chore to have a cup of tea with them.
I don’t get it either.

I think it was Track and Field, then I think my brother didn’t like the Commodore and they exchanged that for an NES (I don’t know about the transaction, I was very young). Most of my earliest gaming memories are of SMB1.

I was around 3 or so, at the time.

Firefox. Not enough people know that you can install extensions on FF Android, including uBlock Origin.

Just a hunch, but it seems to me that in an event to be called WW3 there would be a lot of infighting. There just appears to be a lot more civil unrest in recent decades, and I just have a feeling it would be a war much more fragmented than the ones before it.

I have much less wonder now, and it is ruining my day to day enjoyment at times. It is hard to dream big when you know more about the world, and how corrupt it all can be. They call it depression, but when reasons are provided for lack of opportunities it’s seen as downright shameful to be upset about it.

I miss the times when I was more naive about the world, it made it all interesting.

I like for the situation to be real, described in a way that just clicks with my inner voice. I’m not sure where in your question that notion stands.

I know I’ll get downvoted, but I want to say this is just the experience of me and my families over generations: moved from India to England. My grandfather and his relations fought under the British Raj, and he worked for the British government in a small job even after the partition, so after a while my grandparents came over to London. My mother did nursing training in India, but at a St. Mary’s boarding school so she was taught by mostly British standards and that made the transition to move to London much easier as well (I was born and raised here).

Your post essentially highlights the elephant in the room, as to why a lot of people immigrate to countries like the US, Canada, or the UK: despite our problems, many people find these countries to be better in terms of, well, many things. You can find pockets of communities here to prevent you feeling too homesick as well, such as Southall which many (including myself) call “little India”.

Maybe look at options for if you can aim towards a field of employment that would provide you with the skills required to get a VISA to a place with (in your personal view) a better quality of life. If you have the time and dedication, programming and various IT fields have often been successful with this however I can imagine there being a lot of competition. Perhaps someone else could recommend a better field.

Professional manual analysis of herbal terpinoid content (ignition-form expert).

Yes

In ear earbuds. I blimmin’ hate them but my Audio Technica over ears are too bulky for the gym.

Bit off topic, though if anyone could recommend cheap but decent wireless headphones, for the gym, that are not in ear I would appreciate it a lot (I’m in the UK).

I am coincidentally also 35, and had similar sentiments following my most “recent” divorce (4 years ago!)

Your comment is bang on mate. The second to last paragraph really hits home but it’s something that I really needed to acknowledge and accept if I ever wanted to move on.

Went to a gig recently, was in a mosh pit for the first time in over a decade, and a fucking LOVED every bit of it, bruising and all.
You just gotta find your vibe, and it takes effort, but once you do others will see your vibe and want to jiggle with you (I’m not great at analogies hopefully this makes sense).

Banner, by Lights. The Acoustic version.

How can our age be real if our eyes aren’t real?