Pot Farm

Updated: May 13, 2020

With my parents withdrawal support. I discovered a new way to make money.

On a pot farm. I met a pot farming couple at my friend's wedding and they tired me to help. I would have done anything to leave Utah, and in them I saw opportunity.

I wanted to leave Salt Lake.

I was on mushrooms when I confessed to Emma that I'd been taking her pills. The guilt weighed heavy on my conscience. I didn't want to life the lie of stealing from a human I considered a friend?

Even family?!

Emma came over to my house while I was tripping. I told her I'd been taking her pills. She said, "I know. I've known it all along, and I didn't say anything." ...

I died.

I also felt liberated. The truth does set you free, and in telling the truth, I felt free.

I felt a tremendous weight lift off my chest.

After confessing, I left town.

I was haunted by my choices, and I needed a fresh start.

I dreamt of living anywhere but Utah. I was afraid to see anyone.

I wanted to experience life in another city, and grow as a human being.

I seized the first opportunity to work on a Pot Farm in The Emerald Triangle.

The plan came together in a matter of a day. At a friend's wedding.

I met their friends who ran an operation north bay, and I helped them plant and trim. The first harvest, I made $1,000 more than I'd made babysitting, secretary-ing, and anything I'd ever done in my life, so I moved to the Bay.

I left my home in Utah to work on a Pot Farm in the Emerald Triangle. It was the most fresh pine smell, beautiful experience with pot I've ever had. It was a delicatessen to touch sticky leaves and roll it into a smokeable ball. The firsthand experience on a farm attracted me, and a new opportunity sounded better than anything I had going on in Utah.

With my parents withdrawal support. I discovered a new way to make money. On a pot farm.

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