Brown, Blow, and Being a Bad Boy

I’ll never forget that trip to Brown University my freshman year of high school. Honestly, I was the quintessential good boy back then—or at least, that’s what everyone thought. Captain of the debate team, straight-A student, the whole nine yards. But there was always something simmering beneath the surface, a desire to fuck up the perfect facade my parents had so meticulously crafted for me. Visiting this friend of a friend at Brown felt like my first real taste of freedom. I mean, it was an Ivy League school—how much more rebellious could you get? Little did I know, that trip would be my introduction to a whole new world.

The memory is hazy now, but I distinctly remember walking into his dorm room and being hit with the smell of incense and weed. It was like nothing I’d ever encountered before—this sweet, earthy aroma that instantly made me feel both anxious and intrigued. The guy (let’s call him Alex) offered me a hit without hesitation. I hesitated for a moment; after all, I’d never broken any real rules before. But something about being in that dimly lit room surrounded by posters of bands I’d never heard of and surrounded by people who didn’t give two fucks about what my parents thought… it felt liberating.

I took the hit too quickly—the smoke burned my lungs and made me cough like crazy. Everyone laughed but in this weirdly supportive way? Like they’d all been there too once upon a time? Alex handed me a water bottle and said something like ‘Rookie move.’ Hm… honestly? It wasn’t as great as everyone hyped it up to be at first. The room spun slightly; colors seemed more vivid? But beneath all that sensory stuff… there was this sense of release. Like suddenly everything just seemed less serious—my parents’ expectations, school pressures… even myself became less insufferable.

The craziest part isn’t even getting high for the first time or hanging out with college kids—it’s how much that single afternoon changed me going forward. Maybe it’s naive to pin such transformation on one event? But honestly… Anonymous, there’s something about crossing those lines for the first time—smoking weed when you’re not supposed to—that shifts your entire perspective on rules in general.