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How am I supposed to be a chill guy and low-key not really care about anything when I can’t even sleep and I have constant jitters. All I think about is where the next bag is coming from. I tried to live a normal life, live up to life’s potential and chase what made me happy but all that makes me happy is the feeling of those delectable snowy white crystals being hoovered up by my schnozzle. In fact I’d argue that there is nothing more to life, it’s pure bliss. The epitome of a good time. The only time I feel truly alive is after a lizzo size line, feeling my dilated pupils flickering side to side, if I’m not making Harvey Price look sober, I’m not doing enough. I never miss an opportunity to snort, blow, bump, rub, blitz, sniff, rail or hit the slopes. That magical white powder is life.