Mary Jane

God, I wish I was a stoner.

To feel that rush of nothingness; rich and heavy vibrations of stillness crippling every atom of your very being. You feel your fingers cower with heaviness yet you feel as if you could conduct an entire orchestra. You taste the violence and the vibes and the green and the bass- every puff has it’s purpose. Every puff has it’s way with you. You feel yourself become more distant from yourself yet, somehow, you feel so whole. Your body becomes a person of interest and you suddenly want to know more.

When.

How.

Why.

Your heart beats with beautiful uneasiness, your head sways with unbearable lightness, you feel your eyelids begin to tire and you know that this must be it.

Inhale.

Higher.

Gone.

On my date the other night, I got high-I mean really high- in a shady car, with a shady dude, on a shady night. The whole night was shady to be completely honest. The fact that he didn’t even get out of his car to pick me up but, instead, did more of a ghetto drive by or the fact that his online screen name was FastBallHeater92 should’ve thrown up red flags from the beginning.

I should’ve cancelled the date, thrown on a pair of pajamas, and gone straight to bed.

Key word: should’ve.

As I opened the door and stepped into his car, I was hit with an almost overwhelming fragrance of musk and skunk. I knew the smell. I knew it all too well. In that moment, I knew that this was going to be more than just a movie date.

With the movie starting at 9:30, we had about thirty minutes to kill- thirty minutes of mediocre small talk, classic Biggie Smalls’ beats, and that sweet gonj. Mary Jane was good to us. We got high, fast, and like FastBallHeater92’s sexuality, I only questioned it for a brief, fleeting moment.

To be honest, I have no idea what the movie was even about. For the first hour or so, I thought it was a porno. Seriously. Boobs and other extremities were flailing everywhere.  A part of me was disgusted and, quite frankly, hurt that he would even think about taking me to a movie like that. However, another part of me was oddly impressed. To think that he would have the balls to be so blatantly forward and upfront? Wow. Manly.

Anyways, it ended up not being a porno but rather a very lame, lackluster horror movie and I am so grateful that I was out of it for the majority of it.

God, I wish I was a stoner; to be at total peace with who you are and why you are.

I bet Mary Jane doesn’t care about the gap between her thighs or her rib bones that protrude in obscure angles. She is born of Mother Nature and Father Time; she frees and becomes free. Hit after hit, she lifts you higher. No worries. No guilt.

Her grams are fat free.

I bet Mary Jane doesn’t care about numbers or charts; BMI’s or Daily Caloric Intakes. Her electric feel is irresistible. She’s a wild child with good intentions.

No amount of Splenda or Diet Mountain Dew could replicate this kind of high.

You feel like you are something– something unexplainable- like you could break some sort of ground and push some sort of boundary. Like you could be something. As you feel the herb release you, you suddenly become religious and all things Namaste. You ride the green skies for as long as they’ll hold you; nothing can fool you down.

You are invincible. You are untouchable.

You are magnificent.

Eating disorders hold no power here.

You, my friend, are stoned.

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4 thoughts on “Mary Jane

  1. Ohhh, I had Marijuana. Just makes me paranoid! Lol And mountain dew? Not into that either. Lol Thanks for stopping by my blog once more. Hope you had a great day. Actually it may be morning there? The whole time things around the world confuse me! Lol Hugs to you. Paula xxx

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