I couldn’t get any real weed one day, so I bought some Spice (it was called Pandora’s Box) from a shop in Soho, London.
I’m a middle-aged man.
When I go home I put the same amount in a pipe as I would do regular weed.
It’s the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced.
It lasted about an hour, and as soon as it was over, I put a very small amount in a pipe (I know!) and found the sensation quite pleasant, but pleasant with a nasty kind of undertow.
I smoked it constantly for about 4 months, doing the same as so many here have testified, scouring the floor for tiny traces when I ran out, waking up in the middle of the night to smoke, smoking so much my eyes rolled back into my head like a corpse.
The whole time I knew it was a problem but at the time didn’t see it the same way as a heroin/crack addiction as you could buy the stuff in shops, and I was a middle-aged man too mature to fall into addiction at my age.
I suppose it goes without saying that this happened at a not a very good point in my life.
After a few months of a proper junkie-like-addiction, I told my partner to physically remove any traces of it if he ever found me with it again.
I’m lucky in that I didn’t experience any physical withdrawal symptoms, but I always made sure I had real weed around, which I think is what prevented that from happening, and would recommend it to those trying to get off Spice where possible.
I have successfully stayed of Spice, but now adore weed like I never did before, even though I don’t smoke more of it than I used to.
I am incredibly embarrassed about my brush with Spice and realize that I was luckier than most in that once I decided never to go anywhere near it again I didn’t find staying off it very hard.
It’s hard to describe how evil it is.
It’s the evilest thing I’ve ever encountered, animal vegetable or mineral.
I consider myself very fortunate to have come away from it with no lasting damage, and a full recovery is possible.