He was 18, on a rooftop overlooking the Old City in Israel during a gap year program. The nighttime view, ancient stone buildings lit up against the dark, pulsed and blurred. His anxiety, the shapeless dread of an uncertain future, lifted for the first time he could remember.
“A lot of my anxiety had lifted,” he said. “That was a big reason I stuck with weed for as long as I did.”
He smoked every day by the end of that year. A year later, at 19, he was psychotic.
