Hello again, student.
It’s been a while since I last wrote to you.
My friend, the Kratom Monster, used to lurk in back alley smoke shops, but now he’s made his way onto gas station shelves. He’s branded beautifully, and his effects are as euphoric as those of a yellow Percocet.
It’s amusing to watch recovering opiate addicts lose their time to the Kratom Monster. They must have felt so proud to build their personal brand and reputation on such an impressive sober date. Isn’t it true that the one with the longest sober time is seen as the most competent? When they walk into the rooms, newcomers are star-struck by their long-time sober status, but not anymore. The Kratom Monster has arrived, and he specializes in making people feel free.
Kratom shouldn’t be that big of a problem since it’s on the gas station shelves. It’s legal; there’s no crime in offering euphoric thinking to his customers. You drink one, but then you want another, and another, and another. It’s no concern to him or me that the euphoric window closes faster and faster until you end up in a dark basement with no windows at all. This is how tolerance works, student. You get the high reward, but next time it’s not as high, so you need more. This is true of all substances, so stop judging my friend Kratom unfairly.
There’s a notion that you will learn a lot through relapse, but that’s not how the world will view your relationship with Kratom. You’re now spending more time trapped in your mind, in a prison of shame and fear. What used to be a present and kind mind has been replaced with cravings for Kratom—as you chase the monster back to the gas station time and time again.
Your old friend,
The Devil
