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Conversation Had With Myself, Pt. 1

“Just do it…Just quit.”

Says the voice in my head every time I set fire to another blunt. On most days, it feels like I’m setting fire to my own situation. No longer a joy as it was in the past. Sure, cannabis can be mind-blowing for some of us. But, in a world that seems to function properly only through balance, smoking becomes nothing but a bad habit if you find yourself doing so too often.

I don’t know. Who really knows? I mean, some seem to be on the upside of life no matter how much they smoke, but feels like a rare sighting to behold. Funny, though, how most call it “Loud” where I’m from. Because, no matter what solution I try conjuring into my existence in order to stop, there’s only one that seems to work. One solution so hard to grasp for an angry soul like mine just, dying to shout and scream at everyone he sees. Silence. Just, taking a deep breath and being quiet.

Quiet is all I’ve been my entire life. A nerd sitting in the corner of every room full of people dodging every egg and tomato thrown at anything I’ve had to say. It wasn’t until I began writing poetry where I started feeling as if I was finally heard. Rejected no more over crooked glasses, lack of variety in favorable apparel, interests rarely (and I mean, rarely) aligning with anything the “hype train” had to offer, so on. Finally accepted for the person I was while gaining the courage to speak up for myself. Yet, with a sudden pandemic and a stern refusal to get that horrid shot, I feel like that quiet kid again. And, you get pretty damn tired of staying shut.

Nonetheless, I guess that’s why I smoke at the end of the day. That exhaustion of silence when angry can manifest in episodes where you berate the world in front of you. A world always here the minute we wake up with some kind of beauty to look forward to, regardless of circumstances. So, that hit of weed puts a seal over a mouth I’ve been unable to quiet down without it.

But, no matter how many times I smoke, I always have that voice in my head.

“You have to quit. Just quit. Put it down, for once. There was a time where you lived without it. You can do it!”

Still I end up on the same chair I dragged to my room from the basement of my building to light up another joint. A routine I know I have to throw out back into a trash can…

How, though? How do you stop when Mary Jane is the only company you’ve had for the past few years? The name alone makes me cringe worse than a raw lime rubbed into a naked eyeball caught off guard and I can’t seem to stop. Yet, maybe that’s the point. No matter how you freaking feel, the only option you have is to be quiet and say no. Say no to her outcry whenever you’ve been away too long for her liking as you fill your void with laughter. Good food. Your favorite movie. A passion you’ve wanted to explore ever since you were a child. Just, more love for yourself when you can’t seem to get it from nobody else…

“Just quit…Please, just quit.”

My voice tells me. Even as I write this sentence. Maybe this time I’ll listen. Finally, just finally. Love myself more than I’ve been afraid to…

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