When did it change? Or really, when did I change? I don’t think it was overnight, but I can’t trust myself enough to really know that. What I do know is I used to be that girl who was down to get high.
The whole reason I got up every morning, went to work every day was all for the joy of coming home and getting baked on the couch. My body would ache from the tension and stress of work so bad, that not Advil and a hot bath would help. But once the lighter hit the bowl and the effects crept up, I’d feel no pain.
Now I don’t do that. Now Mary Jane bugs me out in a wicked way. With malice. Sometimes I can’t even remember what she felt like when I was in love with her. Maybe because my last futile attempts gave me a heavy high, wicked paranoia, panic, and stress.
Now who am I? I am the girl who has a hard time being around those who get high. It’s beneath me, I suddenly have lost all understanding for it. That’s kid shit. What’s wrong with you or your life that you cannot be sober? You’re weak.
You’re right. I don’t have room to judge. But I am right, too. I am right because I was there. I have all the room in the world to judge. But this is not a lecture. I am not a sponsor of Just Say No or Above the Influence. If you want to smoke the shit, then do it up. Smoke a bowl or 2 for me.