I want to smoke some weed.
I don’t like hearing the voices, but I also want to confront them.
I got to this point today where the voices were talking about you and I said out loud “it doesn’t matter” and “whatever.”
It’s all I can do, but that attitude makes me feel like I can smoke weed and maybe at least sit and listen to the voices while I feel like I’m a towel being twisted to expel all of its moisture.
It’s not a pleasurable experience, being high.
It used to be, but now when I get high I become the most paranoid I’ve even been in that given moment, and it feels like the world is working against me.
Like everyone is speaking in code, in a language or a way where they know all the answers to my problems but refuse to tell me.
So safe to say I didn’t smoke weed. I have a preroll that I got a year ago lying on the table downstairs and it might be best if I just throw it out, but knowing myself, I’ll probably find my way back to a dispensary and send myself to hell all over again.
Ugh.