One day, he invited me out to dinner and told me that he had separated from his wife. Sure, it was kind of sad — I even knew her, and she was really nice. But at the time, I genuinely convinced myself that maybe this meant I could finally be with him now. I told him dozens of times that I loved him and that I would do absolutely anything for him. And I did. Whenever other people in our shared circles insulted me or spread lies about me, I stayed quiet in order to preserve the “harmony,” as he called it. Once, I even lied publicly because he threatened to cut off contact with me otherwise. Back then, I kept telling myself that all of this must somehow be right. Surely he knew what was best. He was the greatest.

What opinion about weed will have you like this?