To New Heights

Today, we smoked weed for the first time in awhile, and when I say awhile I actually mean about a week. The lack of withdrawal symptoms has been a pleasant surprise.

We sat outside, on the patio, smoking hella cigarettes and talking. Talking, not really having any conversations, at first. Just each of us talking, sometimes over eachother, sometimes one at a time, but with no one really listening to anyone for more than a few seconds at once. Too baked. Way too baked.

I spoke. I started talking. I had something important to say, and I wanted everyone to hear it. I spoke, and no one responded. Each of us was absolutely wrapped up in our own high world. Seperate spheres of beautiful, liberating inebriation. My words hung in the air, likelife, flitting things that were dying as I watched. They disappeared.

Suddenly, I felt small.

What I had to say obviously didn’t matter. Nobody was listening. My thoughts might as well not even exist.

And then it hit me: had I become so dependent on external forces for validation that my own opinion was no longer important? Yeah, I guess so.

That’s some bullshit. I’ll have to work on that.

10:00am - 2:54am

it’s not that late of a night. quite early, in fact,compared to others. i’m drunk as fuck, high too, just so damn cross faded i can hardly function. I’m barely able to feel my skin.

Not that late of a night. But it’s been a long day. And the anger, the resentment, the angst, the fear, the panic, the paranoia, the sadness, the blues in general…i’m ready to get in bed, pull the covers up to my chin and sleep it all away.

good night.