Thursday, June 28, 2018
I don't want sympathy for this piece, but I do want you to look before you decide to jump in. About a year ago, I had a very deep conversation with a woman, a Christian. Practicing the faith myself, I found myself surrounded with her circle of fellow Christian friends. She spoke to me about dopamine and how a friend explained to her that it was our connection to God. I want you to know that I've never used drugs, but I have attended church about twenty-five percent of my life so I could relate to what she had been talking about. I then met a friend who had been on drugs, I also had a chance to speak with children with practically nothing left but a dirty shoe. On my small journey to the age of thirty-six, I've come to realize what the word: “human” really means, especially after the conversation with the Christian woman. She was not a very well read person, but her way of thinking was humane, I could relate. A former drug dealer explained to me that crack and drugs affect the dopamine in the brain, he concluded by assuring me that this discovery is what changed the world. After the pictures of strung-out mothers, dead babies and rich drug dealers, I felt that I had had enough. I can admit that I did shed a tear. The dopamine in my brain or my connection to God, made me search for ways to keep people away from drugs. If what the woman said is true, then those who found the connection to God and are using it for their own gain, could be to blame for why so many lives are coming to an end at an earlier age than usual. Searching for the fountain of youth, I stumbled across something that if left in the wrong hands, could kill everything and everybody; overwhelmed by the possibilities of my findings, I left my discovery and walked away. Realizing that all of my work would never be discovered, I wiped the sweat off of my forehead and went to sleep. I somehow care, I'm human.