Side Effects of Northern Lights
Smoke Northern Lights and you’ll probably feel like your bones just melted into the couch. That’s the dream, right? But it’s not all cozy blankets and cosmic giggles. There’s a flip side — and it can hit weird, fast, or not at all. Depends on the day. Depends on you.
Dry mouth? Yeah, that’s the classic. Feels like your tongue’s been sandblasted. Water helps, but sometimes it’s like no amount of hydration can fix that cotton-stuffed skull feeling. And the eyes — red, glassy, like you’ve been crying over a breakup you barely remember. Some folks don’t care. Others get paranoid someone’s gonna notice. That’s the thing — paranoia. It sneaks in.
One minute you’re vibing to some old-school Tribe Called Quest, next minute you’re convinced your neighbor’s watching you through the blinds. They’re not. Probably. But that creeping sense of “something’s off” — it’s real. And it sucks. Especially if you’re already a little anxious. Northern Lights can amplify that. Like turning up the gain on a busted speaker. Distortion city.
And then there’s the brain fog. Some people call it relaxing. I call it getting stuck mid-thought and forgetting what the hell you were talking about. You’ll be halfway through a sentence and — poof — gone. Like your brain just skipped a track. It’s funny until it’s not. Especially if you’re trying to do anything that requires, you know, thinking.
Also — and I don’t hear enough people talk about this — Northern Lights can make you feel kinda dumb. Not permanently, obviously. But in the moment? You might forget how to use a microwave. Or start laughing at a joke you made up in your head that doesn’t even make sense out loud. It’s disorienting. And sometimes, yeah, hilarious. But other times, it’s just frustrating.
Some folks get dizzy. Lightheaded. Like your body’s there but your brain’s floating two feet above it, watching. That can be fun, or it can be terrifying. Depends on your mood. Depends on the room. Depends on whether you ate anything besides a granola bar that day.
Oh — and the munchies. Not just “I could eat” munchies. I mean full-blown, fridge-raiding, peanut-butter-on-pickles level hunger. It’s a beast. And if you’re trying to eat clean or whatever, good luck. Northern Lights does not give a damn about your diet plan.
For some people, it’s a gentle ride. A warm blanket. A soft fade into dreamland. For others, it’s like being trapped in a lava lamp with a racing heart and no exit plan. Same strain. Wildly different experiences. That’s weed for you.
So yeah, Northern Lights is legendary. But it’s not magic. It’s a plant with power — and side effects. Don’t pretend it’s all peace signs and Bob Marley posters. Sometimes it’s just dry eyes, weird thoughts, and a desperate need for snacks you don’t have.