Delightfully AWOL (Monologue)

The same, the same, the same, the same, the same!

That’s just how it’s been for the past few weeks and it’s driving me insane. I may have reached two months without smoking marijuana, but something is still missing. A part of myself still seems to be AWOL without ever wanting to come back…

All of this tension makes me want to go back in time and slap my hand each moment I picked up a pack of rolling papers. May be confusing to understand, but as much as I don’t want to ever smoke again in this reality, I would love to lucid dream every single night and light a joint right then and there just to feel calm for a moment. Even if it’s only for one second.

But…

I only have myself to blame, right? Regardless of how I felt, I had a choice to pick from: either waste my time puffing out a train of clouds blocking my view of what could’ve been a beautiful horizon or use my time to write and visualize the smile I’ve always wanted to see in front of any mirror I face. And, like the idiot I’ve been, I chose to breathe in a lie.

You know! How I would feel better if I just burned away each opportunity I had to deal with hard truths. How It would help me grin during the most difficult times when in reality, I was stoned with absolutely no energy to lift my chin up. Those fucking lies…

Please, excuse my language, but It’s just how I feel at the moment. Angry. Dejected. Alone. Forgotten. Forsaken as a man in a world where nobody seems to care, not even God himself. Crying more often than laughing.

But…

Like I said, it’s my fault. It’s my fault for not loving myself a bit more when others refused to. Loving myself more by denying flower with a scent I would scoff at rather than enjoy. Loving myself more by taking big whiffs of daisies and tulips instead of what I like to call nature’s fart, flatulence.

I just wish I had someone by my side. Just, one person to remind me that I am not the monster I drew myself up to be. That I’m not this horrid person my mother believes I was from the moment I was born. That I’m not such a waste of a son for my father to ignore in his later years of life.

Yet…

With how lonely I have been, maybe I am the bad person everyone else seems to label me as. I can’t help but think that I shouldn’t be alive at any point in time being God’s only mistake in existence.

Or…

Maybe I’m being way too harsh on myself. After all, I’ve been undergoing changes for the past seven years while believing I never had the strength to do so. And, here we are! Almost three months without smoking a single joint while gagging at the smell. About five years have past where I haven’t had a drink nor bought one to drown away my problems. After floating around 300 pounds for most of my life, I’m at an awesome two hundred fifteen pounds of love to give. All of which are lifestyle changes bound to drive away others who are busy scattering through roads I refuse to be a part of any longer.

I may be lonely, yes! But, no matter how lonely I am, is that such a bad thing? I don’t think so. We’re all subject to walk through a hurricane within our weary minds in victory strengthening our resolve for a life where contentment is abundant.

And…

Regardless of what I feel, determined I am to make that dream a reality. That dream where I smile and just, write my sorrows away, inking every book with an epilogue webbing back together a broken heart or two.

What else do I have left to lose?…