I toked. I sat straight up and made the choice to get out of bed and go to the computer. For years (I thought) I’ve been getting high some nights in bed, and whether or not I start to write or record is not always easy. Sometimes I just get high and watch TV.

But in my head, I’m always thinking and creating and pondering. I mentioned to my psychiatrist that I often think about life like I’m watching the DVD commentary. I watch a fight scene on TV and I’m wondering how many hours of training went into this 34-second scene, and whether that other weightlifter is an extra as a career, or whether they just paid whoever was in the gym to be in the background.

I often find joy in the side thoughts, and in many situations, I create a scenario theatre in my head playing out the board room meeting that must have taken place over the decision to do that one thing, or make that one joke. I wonder how many eyes saw the script and said nothing.

I’m not referring to anything specific in this fantasy. It literally happens all the time that things surprise me on TV. It’s part of why we like watching new shows. If we needed to, we have enough entertainment now to last us without making anything new… but we love new, and for some reason, REAL new is better than new to me. The whole Game of Thrones thing would be new to me, and I doubt it has aged out of style i I started at episode one, but I won’t. 


First break. The moment where my joy in writing was attacked and I was told this sucks. It’s not what it was in my head. It’s not #readworthy. The lowest of my #worthy hashtag series. I had high hopes to come here, high, and still produce the masterpiece of creative writing or whatever… The high made me believe.

The high wears off, it’s shit.

That’s probably the best way to describe drugs to somebody who hasn’t ever tried them before.

The reason drugs are not for everyone is that a lot of people already believe, and so the high doesn’t affect them as much. If weed raises your self-pride, and you’re already bursting with it, drink a beer.

For me, I eventually find the right level. I start off too high, and start writing… but as the high goes away, I am already at the keyboard and may be motivated enough to do some work.

— or so I tell myself.

It is a constant battle inside my head between … well… between everything in that moment.

My spikes of joy are defeated by the second voice. When I’m high, that moment between the two lasts longer. I get to enjoy the idea that my thoughts are genius, perfect, and each one a solid and do-able way out of my current life.

When I smoke weed, I am shown a new hope. Episode Iv.

That is a line that will either be respected by my peers, confuse my peers or confuses anyone…

Aha.  In my head, the positive voice grabs his sword and lunges.  In an Italian accent, he says; I have caught you, negative voice.

The negative voice, looking more like Daffy duck than Antonio Banderas as Heathcliff/Garfield/Morris with a sword.

I regret that line.  I’m still in the too high to filter writing phase.

I can still imagine a scenario where a person sees this, smiles, looks at some others and evaluates that I have potential. That’s the word I’ve lived in fear of my whole life, because I was unable to act upon that potential and thus, lived a life of failing at everything.

It’s harsh when I say that, and anyone near me will comfort with the acceptable line; Nooooo… you’re not a failure.

It’s OK though. I like who I am today, and I am because of that life, who I am… working in therapy to be just a little…

I pause. I look and do other things. I must have gone in a direction I didn’t like. I have forgotten it.

I sigh, knowing this makes for terrible writing.

Oh yeas… the fantasy that someday, my non-denominational offspring of royalty will see me, and save me. I am a wonderful human when standing near someone. It’s when I’m alone I need help.

And I’m alone.

7 days a week… I have decided my mental illness needs a partner. A handler might be a good descriptive word. I think of the human that walks next to Donald Duck hand holding him through the crowds… or the FBI.

Grammarly is great.

end of part one. I am now going to try to save this and read it in attached video.

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