Dog’s feet smell like Fritos
Man going backwards on this Tumblr page must be a trip.
You can literally see the exact moment I stopped smoking weed and the resulting brain weep that follows.
Fluctuating. I go back and forth. Swing between happy and sad from day to day.
Couldn’t get out of bed this morning. Wasn’t at work yesterday. Not in today either. I’m not slacking. Its legitimate. I cannot function right now and I don’t know why.
I wonder if its from the not smoking that is doing this to me. Not even a week without the burn and I am finding it increasingly difficult to cope with emotion. I know it isn’t addictive physically, but its a crutch, for sure. I need a clear head, I need to be sharper, but the consequence is having to deal with real life with no emotional barrier.
I’m used to being ‘okay’, with everything. I feared I might okay my life away so I stopped.
I’m faced with the question of why I won’t pick up the guitar. Deep overwhelming analysis of every relationship ever. Career prospects. Family pressure to conform. Unavailable friends. Lack of time. I don’t have the balls to ask for help or guidance. I don’t have the faith to sustain me through the questions I cannot answer.
I find it excruciating to be filling in the blanks. To be waiting. To turn the other cheek. To proceed to the next level. I’m a problem-solver by nature. I don’t like leaving things hanging. It bothers me that I cannot function like a normal human being because my head isn’t on straight.
I’m not lazy. I’m just uncertain of a lot of things. Weed brings with it a comfortable haze that glosses over everything and makes it seem not half as bad as it really is or was. The second you negate that one little leisure activity after having been so wholeheartedly committed to it, well, panic ensues.
Fingers crossed I make it. Everything that was so easy and so smooth a few short weeks ago is now one hell of a climb. I don’t think I’ve cried as often as I have this week and for the most benign of reasons. The little things that set me off are just unreal.
Every time I stop with the pot I wonder why I started in the first place, and then I start again and I wonder what kept me from it. Its a conundrum. I’d like to not do it anymore. I’ve got to make every move with the confidence that I am competent, that I am headstrong and that I cannot blame mistakes on being baked or uncertain.
I hate this feeling. I know it takes a while to normalize and I will but right now I feel like a methhead. How can something so benign absolutely consume a person? Weed is a helluva drug.
An argument in defence of people who make video games, and why they should be allowed to express themselves through the medium.