Let’s Cut Our Wrist and Then Burn Down Something.

I’m really fucking high right now, so if this comes off sounding crazier than usual, (or better than usual...hehe) you’ll understand why, but I had to get high. I haven’t been high for a long time now, mostly because I just can’t afford to buy any. It really hasn’t bothered me much not smoking, until the past week or so. I’ve been feeling jittery, nervous, agitated, or high-strung, as my last probation officer put it, from the moment I get up until the moment I force myself to lay down for a few hours of sleep.

I’ve had this feeling off and on over the years. When I was a teen and it would happen, I would often find myself locked up either in jail or in a nut house somewhere. That was one of the reasons I began smoking weed... To help calm me down and relax me from the agitated state that my mind often goes to for no reason. Fuck both of those places! Being locked up when I’m in this state of mind is usually never any good... I’m probably going to cut myself with the first sharp object I find or get into some altercation with those who have me incarcerated.

I’ve been trying everything short of cutting myself, or fucking with law enforcement, to bring myself out of this unsettling mood, and nothing seems to be working. So, when a friend from Tulsa called and asked me to stop by, I didn’t hesitate. I figure it’s better to be high than to commit a crime, injury myself, or do something else stupid.

I was met at the door with a 6-point beer and a hefty blunt, which I lit before I made it back to his bedroom. We sat on his bed, watching the news and discussing the latest information about Michael Jackson dieing. Half-way through the blunt, I began talking about some of my stress from the past week, and before I knew it, my stress was greatly diminished. Shit that I had been stressing over, suddenly didn’t feel like that big of deal any longer.

I FORGOT all my problems.. hehe.

A couple hours later, in possession of a limited amount of marijuana, (in case the stress returns), I cautiously made my way through Borg territory, and safely through the front door to my nicely chilled home. After relaxing for a little while, I managed to get some laundry done, and the house straightened to acceptable standards. Next, I called my little friend, and of course she told me to come right over.

The effects of the blunt still lightly lingered, so when we smoked a bowl, my high kicked right back in to a nice and relaxed state. If only this shit was legal there would probably be a lot less killing in this world. I mean, think about it... For me... If I’m high, I’m engrossed in other thoughts, I’m not angry or thinking about smashing in someone’s face.


If you don’t light up the darkness, you’ll always being living in the shadows.

Black Pools of mud are moving

Click you heels three times, and say I wanna go home.
I wanna go home.
I wanna go home.
I wanna go back to when I was 5 years old and start my life all over again. Except for when I run away this time, I don’t ever come back.

I’m still not able to sleep yet, 37 hours and counting, I laid down for a couple of minutes, but I felt like I had that restless leg syndrome, so I’m back up walking around looking like some sad discarded old dog. I want to go into my garage and smoke until I puke (if that’s possible), but when the nice officers came to arrest me, I got rid of the only 3 joints I had left. I could easily go get more, but I better chill for now, I’m not sure the boys in blue are done with getting their jollies.

Stress is eating me up right now. I had to dig out my last couple of Loritabs that I had from when I first injured my knee, and took one about an hour ago, but it has yet to do anything. I twisted my knee just bad enough yesterday, that it is giving me a lot of pain when I try to walk. So, between the stress and the pain, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to use something. OK, YES I’M A FUCKING ADDICT!!

Shadows are dancing,
but there is no light to make a shadow.
Consumed by dreadful thoughts,
I want to drift away to another place.

I've been to the edge.

I’ve been to the edge, falling off into what feels like a deep endless pit; Hitting face down in mud so deep that when you finally stood up the mud reached your knees. I would attempt to climb out, only to fall back into the muck a little deeper each time.

I first smoked marijuana at the age of 12 with a friend of my fathers. I didn’t really know what to expect and honestly I didn’t care. I was thinking more about the fact that my father’s friends were giving me attention. After only a few hits of the marijuana my head began to fly to other places, and it made me smile. The high kept my mind off what my fathers friends took turn doing to me, while I laid naked in the grass.
From that earliest time of being abused, I learned being high helped to make things ‘okay’, or at least easier to deal with. I guess that’s why I can’t stop smoking weed; it allows me to feel ‘okay’ when things aren’t going so good.
On New Years Eve I got high with a few friends for the first time in a few months. The next morning I got high again with the left over roaches that were in the ashtrays. I was so relaxed and at ease hiding in my back bathroom alone, smoking every little remaining piece that I could find. Later that evening my body wanted more, my mind wanted more, and I wasn’t going to deny myself any longer.
It’s been 5 days now since I’ve returned to smoking, and I already feel out of control. I just finished smoking 2 joints and as soon as I’m finished with this I’m going to go smoke another. It would help if the fucking weed was good, but the last bag I got from a bitch friend in Tulsa, the shit will barely get you high. One of my other connections from Eden got into a fight with his girlfriend and she threatened to turn him into the police, even though she smokes herself, so he won’t be selling any of the good stuff for a little while. My third guy from Glenpool got locked up, so now I’m going to my number 4 guy tomorrow or Saturday to see what he’s got.
Addictions suck.

Addiction Rules your Life

Yes I am addicted to marijuana and have been for 21 years. I have used it off and on (mostly on) since the age of eighteen. I continued to steadily smoke until the age of 23 when I found out I was pregnant. I felt I had to give my unborn child the best possible start in life, so I quit that very day I left the Doctors office. I was still clean when had my second child and stayed that way up until he was two years old.Stress and pressures from friends was the reason I gave for returning to smoking weed. Plus at the time I was living with someone who was addicted and said he would never quit. He changed the old saying to ‘they can take away my weed when they pry it from my cold dead hands’. It was true, as many times as I asked him to quit, he just wouldn’t. He said it was the only thing that keeps him sane, and I almost had to agree with him again. When he didn’t have any, he was a complete asshole, quick to anger, ready to start a fight over the simplest of things. The bad arguments (the ones when the police were usually called by some neighbor), happened because he wanted to spend more money than we could afford to spend. Of course I only told the cops we were fighting about money, because I have learned you just don’t dare mention it was about drugs. If you admitted it was about the drugs the next question out of the officer’s mouth is “are there any drugs in the house?”I want to yell at him “don’t be such a dumbass, why do you think we were fighting in the first place officer? If we had some weed we would be high, laying down in bed, watching old reruns on TV and munching on some delightful tasting high calorie food. We wouldn’t be fighting.”
Instead I have learned to be polite, and answer with an honest looking no. “Sorry officer we were just yelling about money, he left and everything is fine.” ……..The words “FOR NOW!!!!” screamed so loud in my brain, that it made my head hurt.

The real problem… The last ounce he bought wasn’t any good, so he quickly smoked it, trying to achieve a high of some sort and only became angry that he didn’t feel anything after smoking several joints back to back. The dealer is not like Wal-Mart where if you don’t like it you can return it; when you buy bad drugs there is no one to complain to, so you’re stuck with whatever you get. A drug addict won’t just wait until another payday; they have to have more, and will do whatever it takes to get it.“It’s my money; I can spend it any way I want!” he yelled at me after I told him he couldn’t have half of the light bill money to get a sack. “Fuck you bitch!” he said grabbing the money from my purse and began walking away.“I need the bill paid so we don’t get the electric shut off. I don’t want the boys going without”. That hit him hard, it always did. I used the boys often, hoping that somehow that would help him to change into the type of person I thought he should be.

He was a hard working man, who went to work everyday, until the day he got laid off. He received unemployment, which barely paid the bills, so he felt he had to find a way to maintain the drug habit.Then came the talking me into it part, “Don’t worry about things, I’ll just sell to people I know. I’ll buy enough weed that I can sell some and make the money back plus a little extra. Just trust me.” So the weed selling began, but there were no real profits, because basically we smoked it up. I was under stress and the weed occupied our time together. We spent more time in search of weed or smoking weed than we did spending time with the boys. If a fight started over anything, we would just go smoke more weed. Before long we were smoking just as much weed as we were selling and even began growing a few plants for our own personal use. I was so afraid that someone was going to find out and I didn’t want to take the chance of losing my boys. I couldn’t take it any more and wanted to stop, but had no idea how to stop what had become a big part of life. It became a viscous cycle that I felt I could never get out of.Finally a move and a new job started, but the weed habit is still going strong.The weed habit began to be a real problem for me after I was caught several times in possession of marijuana. It was always for a very small amount; half joint one time, two roaches another time, and the last one was for a piece about this ___ long. I swear to God Oklahoma’s laws on weed sure need to change. But then there are times like now when I wish with all my heart that I could quit. I’m almost 40, so I’ve been smoking a long time and I’m always thinking about quitting for several reasons. One my health, I’m overweight and I know it’s from a lot of the junk food that I eat because the weed makes food taste better which makes me so damn fucking hungry all the time. (Hold on, got the munchies.)On the other side I like weed because it still helps me to relax and take my mind off things. I feel like I can think better while on weed, or at least I believe it makes my mind more creative. I tend to talk a lot more and be more social when I’m high.When I’m not high, I’m laid back and withdrawn and feel like I want to spend most of day in bed sleeping the day away. It’s like I just don’t want to face the world.So guess until the right time comes I’m left stuck somewhere in-between here and there.