Well. Allow me to begin. This is my first high. If you don't want to hear my history, scroll on my fellow stoners. It was my 16th birthday. All my birthdays suck. My parents fought constantly, and they treated me no better. My older brother, then, was I do believe 17, and he was indeed one of the only reasons this family was bearable. He smoked a bunch with his friends, and he was a pretty frequent stoner. I always wondered about it and I always wanted to try some. Sooo, he hooked me up. I smoked once the month before, but felt nothing. He let me smoke out his pipe in our backyard, giving me tips and what not. He was kind of surprised at how well I took hits. Nonetheless, I was inexperienced. As we finish toking, we go back inside. I was at a good 8. I loved it. I couldn't stop pacing down the hall. Everytime I saw him I told him he was a great guy. It felt like hours but it was a few minutes. As I cozy up in my bed with an ipod shuffle touch, I hold it up and stare at the album cover for a few seconds. I then trip balls. I see my hand as an eagle's claw holding up a white cracker in front of a read curtain while an applause. I immediately got up out of bed, stare at my hand, and laugh. I then go to my brother's room, thank him with all my heart for the best birthday I ever had, and go back to sleep. I love that mother ******. Thanks bro.