The soul said to me, “I got high af today”
I simply replied “Off of?”
I needed time to myself”
“You feeling proud?” I asked blandly. Back when I hit Mary Jane, I had to exploit myself to any close friend after I got really high. So I knew what was about to go down.
“Nope” she indicated. I felt queasy at her reply.
My tactile rebuttal was “Why was it the first thing you told me then?”
“Cause it was fun
doesn’t mean I was proud”
I was baffled but enticed at the soul’s answer, for it was a legit dodge at my accusation.
I’ve had those thoughts before. I couldn’t bear witness to a friend going down the same malignant path that I had once taken. So i divulged,
“I don’t want to sound like a parent… So all I will say, is that as fun as weed is, it’ll only make you more depressed when it’s not in your system. You’ll start craving that ‘stoned’ sensation. Your days will just wither away. Soon will come the time when you realize it’s not even all that good as it used to be. Don’t become a habitual ‘blower.’ Just blow doja every now and then.”
I don’t know why I used the term “blower,” but sadly enough, I did. I recognize it was quite shabby of me. She then told me;
“I won’t do it alot, I promise
I had to let the soul know where my ideas were coming into fruition from, so I added:
“Soul, I’ve been down that path. just looking out for you.
The reason you were crying the other night? That influenced the fact that you got high right?”
I did the exact same thing before, I knew the corresponding feelings, so in that same paragraph, I continued to say;
“You wanted to get over that feeling, and being stoned just numbed it all out while you pranced in pure joy to forget about the past? Then you realize your day is gone and you still feel like crap. What do you do now? You go out and light another spliff. Yeah, it happens. Then you can’t stop until your problem is solved. It won’t be. Especially not with weed.”
My texting got really shoddy due to all of the past images and memories coming to life in my mind as I typed. Her next words were;
“Why do you understand me so well”
I wouldn’t consider myself as understanding. Yes, I do understand, but not in the cliche way. More like; comprehension. It’s simply real life. I comprehend realism.