I self-medicate. I am not afraid to admit it. But I do not abuse anything I use to deal with my mental illness. I drink, and yes I do throughout the day, but at no point during the day am I drunk. Liquor is for special occasions. Wine, beer, wine coolers? Sure, I’ll have one with breakfast lunch and dinner and maybe one more in between those times. But I am never drunk. I smoke weed. But unless I am making an activity of it with friends, I won’t smoke a joint or a blunt, I’ll smoke a single bong pack or bowl pack every hour or two. At no point during the day am I fucked up. Cigarettes? Yeah, I smoke em. Yeah, I know they’ll kill me young. Yes, I want to quit. But I’ll decide when I’m ready to actually devote attention specifically to destroying that bad habit. Pills? I love em. Do I take them without a prescription? No. Do I take more than I am supposed to? No. So whats the problem? Honestly, I abuse a lot of things, but never to the point that it is literally life threatening. Everything can be enjoyed in moderation. What’s life without enjoying the things you want? Honestly, its quality not quantity. But that’s just my defense of why I do the things I do lol. Think what you want I’m happy.
-High Ramblings of a Stoner
I never really had a home. Not a birthplace where I can say I grew up, not even an actual house where I spent enough time for me to consider it home. I guess what I’m saying is I don’t have a specific place where I associate enough crucial memories for me to consider it home. My home would be spread out over dozens of places. By the way, I’m a military brat who has moved at least every four years since I was born.
I don’t ever picture myself having a home. I was born a wanderer, and I feel like that’s how I’ll stay.
Though if I were to ever settle in an area, you know pick a place where I want to die, then I guess the type of house I’d want would be a three bedroom small house. That way I could have an art studio and a study. Or I guess maybe a two bedroom with a basement or attic. Or a one bedroom with both. All I know is home is where I have everything I need to live in a particular place for more than five years.
But will I ever find a place like that? Where my restless spirit can finally find peace? I don’t know. I may just spend my entire life traveling, moving every five years till I’m too old and sick to move anymore.
Who knows what my future holds but it’ll work out. As long as I go through life with good intentions, then I should find peace and happiness. I don’t know in what form it’ll take, but as long as I thirst for a rememberable life and make moves to accomplish it, then I can die content.
-High Ramblings of a Stoner
“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
– Albert Einstein
I don’t learn from my mistakes. I am the definition of crazy, I literally do the same things over and over again and somehow miraculously expect a different result. It’s batshit crazy I know, but it’s like I am so into momentary pleasures that i find a way to rationalize a series of these momentary pleasures. Idk, maybe I’ll just accept that I’m crazy and not try to fix myself. Maybe I’ll continue to live like this, not giving a fuck and just living the happiest way I know how. Or maybe I’ll take that plunge. Maybe I’ll search for a different kind of happiness. The kind that isn’t dependent on senses but the soul. But hey, I’m just a no good stoner so maybe I’ll fill this pocket in our society and be perfectly content either way.
-high ramblings of a stoner…