I remember a time when smoking weed was an escape. Looking back, it was probably some combination of pure habit, and a subconscious fleet from any and all problems. At 24 however, it is a fucking nightmare.
Above you will notice a graph, courtesy of paintbrush.exe. This represents highness in terms of paranoia and age; the ebb and flow of my 'bugginout' from pothead infancy to now, and as you can see, I am no longer a very chill guy.
Too many pulls of the wacky and I get way too hungry for a mid-twenties motabolism, overworry about legitimate issues, and if with friends, typically have to hear about their std concerns.
I ask you, why the hell would I 'escape' the everyday stresses of sobriety to this mental, circus-like land of hysteria and disease chit chatter. Thanks, but its not for me.
So, sure, 1 hit is fine. But after that, I'm good.
No comments:
Post a Comment