If sex is my first addiction, weed is a close second. I love it, the taste, the smell, the way it burns the back of my throat. I like watching the smoke pour out of my mouth, I even enjoy coughing after taking a good long hit. If, and nowadays, I should say when, it becomes legal, I would smoke it everyday. It has been a part of my life for the better part of a decade now, and I would be lying if I said that I didn't think about getting high at least once a day. Outside of my family it is the the longest relationship I have sustained... but she is a fickle bitch.
This is a touchy subject in our country right now, with two states making the leap to full recreational legalization, I feel the rest of the country can't be far behind. Once that train has left the station it will be a hard one to stop. It is not as controversial as gay marriage, so it wont be as hard to get people on board. Lets face it my generation is behind it, but it also has the backing of older generations. There is also no clear party line, I have smoked with Republicans and Democrats, Independents and everyone in between. I have smoke with incredibly smart people, and incredibly dumb people. The tax revenue it is generating out in Colorado is already in the millions, and once the federal government gets a taste of that it is over. It is coming.
That is not what this post is about though (there might be one in the future, this week is about my vices, not my politics.) This post is about what the reefer has done, or not done, for me in my life.
I was fifteen the first time I got high. I was always raised to believe that grass was the devil. That if I where to get high my life would fall into a downward spiral. I would become either an after school special, or one of those stupid commercials you see, ya know the ones where the kid is all deflated on the couch, his friends in the back round saying he never does anything anymore... you know the one.
I remember the day very clearly. It was a Wednesday, a very pivotal Wednesday, and we had gotten out of school early that day. One of my good friends was back from college so my brother and I went to have lunch with him, while catching up he asked if we wanted to get high. The prospect scared me, but I also trusted the kid, which made it easier to say yes. I knew that he smoked and drank but he had gotten into a good school, nothing terrible had happened to him, So I figured why not, plus I wanted to impress him. We had to go back to school, but told him we would meet up with him after. We made planned the rendezvous for around 4:30. I had to work after school and all I could do was watch the clock.
4:30 came and I practically sprinted out the door into the parking lot.He was waiting just like he said he would be. I was nervous and had no idea what I was doing, but there was a part of me that felt more alive than i ever had. Before that day I had never had done a drug, taken a drink, smoked a cigarette, My body was clean and healthy, my mind was clear. I was so desperate for acceptance that I was willing to sacrifice my innocence if it meant that someone liked me.
We pulled out of the parking lot and headed out of town. He quickly pulled out an atlas and set it on my lap. I wasn't sure if he needed directions and threw him a puzzled look, he laughed and told me to hang on. He dug around the back seat and pulled out a large zip lock bag full of dirt weed. I had never seen good old Mary Jane before so I was taken back. It didn't look like what I thought it should.
He broke off a chunk and put it on the atlas and promptly told me to pick out all the seeds and stems, he then handed me a pipe. My hands where shaking the whole time. It took me longer than it should have, but I finally had enough clean to load the pipe. He handed me a lighter and told me to light it up. Still shaking I brought it to my lips and lit it, sucking slowly at first. The smoke burned as it filled my mouth. It took everything I had not to gag as I coughed and coughed. Tears burned my eyes as I looked over at my friend. He was laughing. We smoked three bowls before he finally put it away.
I have heard many people say they never got high their first time. I.... Got..... Super.... High. Everything became slow and fast at the same time. Colors popped, music sounded better, everything I had been worried about faded into the background. My give a fuck was officially broken, and I liked it.
We drove around for a little bit before he dropped me back off at work, just in time for my mom to pick me and my brother up. I didn't say much on the way home, and as soon as we got there I made some excuse about having home work and went straight to my room, where I stayed the remainder of the night.
It took a couple of years for it to really get its hooks into me, but it had not destroyed my life like I had been told it would. I went on to finish high school, graduating with honors, My brother and I started a business before we turned 18. I got high occasionally and noticed that it helped my social skills. I didn't really like beer at the time, so I stuck with what I knew. I wasn't afraid when I was high. It made me funny, and often the life of the party. It didn't didn't give me a hang over and allowed me to connect with people I never thought I would.
As time went on myself a couple of buddies started selling it, mostly so we didn't have to pay for it. Only problem was, we got good at it. We became the people to know, my phone would blow up at all hours, day or night, and for the first time in my life I felt as though i was truly being accepted,that became a drug of its own. I had never seen so much cash in my life, and I was having fun. I was lying to my family, and losing friends I had had for years, but I was having fun, and making money, it was a win win in my book.
There were some close calls with the cops. There was more than one fight, Guns where pointed at me. But I was having fun. I was still the guy to know. I was like the guy in prison that can get anything you need. I had power because I had knowledge, and I wielded that power, slowly becoming arrogant. I became a slave to my pleasure. If something didn't go my way I had to get high, just so i could forget. I started having trouble holding down a job, and paying the rent. Bills started to pile up along with stress. The more stressed I got, the higher I got. I could be on the verge of tears, but if you handed me a lighter and a loaded bowl I could be laughing in minutes. It was not longer fun, but a necessity.
My life had become the after school special I never thought it would... I was blind to it. In my eyes I still had everything under control, so I turned to other things I had been warned about. My logic was if I could handle weed, I could handle anything, It started with alcohol, then coke, then a little bit of E, mushrooms... the list goes on, but the fact is it all started with weed.
So do I love weed? Yes and no. It helps me see things differently, I can create when I am high, Some of the best art work I have ever done was created when I was high. I wrote an entire book, like literally a novel, and I was high for a good part of it. If I wasn't high while writing it I was high when searching for ideas. My mind seems to work better when its fueled by a little thc, at least I like to think it does, so I can not whole heatedly say that I hate it. It turns the volume down enough for me to focus.
My problem is that I use it as a crutch. I sometimes feel that I can't create unless I am high, and that is the lie that I tell myself, that is also why I need to be careful around it and with it. It gives me a fake confidence, and what I need to learn is that that confidence is in there, somewhere in the recesses of my mind. I do know for a fact, if I can do it high, i sure as shit can do it sober. The talent is in there, I just need to realize that I am the key, not the weed.
-Micah
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