I have no particular objection to people taking substances that make them feel better or more contented, or, for the matter, see little dancing purple fairies – or even their God if it comes to that. It’s their brain, after all, and society can have no claim on it, providing they’re not operating heavy machinery at the time.
We’re these unbelievably complicated brains drifting through a void, trying in vain to connect with one another by blindly flinging words out into the darkness.
Every choice of phrasing and spelling and tone and timing carries countless contexts and and subtexts and more, and every listener interprets those signals in their own way.
Language isn’t a formal system. Language is glorious chaos.