There are some things in life we lie to ourselves about. The word maybe is an indicator. When most people say maybe, they already have the choice made up. Maybe is used to let somebody else down easy without committing to yes or no, but it probably means no.

As a kid, eventually we learn that maybe we can go to Disneyland really means no. We lie to ourselves too, pretending there is a possibility of a yes or no answer, but by the time we’re saying maybe, we know what we want.

For a drug user, maybe gets little debate. If the question is posed, it usually means we’re going to get high again. The question more about timing. Maybe is a weak stall attempt but if you asked, you know the answer is going to end up being yes.

It’s 1130 on a Tuesday and my balls are itchy. I’m not feeling tired. I’m feeling blah and the song in my head is only the first two lines of the chorus that I don’t know any other words to. My nose is clogged on the right nostril and I’m feeling dry and dehydrated.

I think maybe I should do an all nighter. It’s been a while and I could probably get some stuff done. I always open the debate with optimism about being productive. Even if I know it may not be true, it pushes more towards the ultimate justification where I pick up the lighter, then the bong and do it.

Just do it already comes through my head like an impatient Nike ad.

It’s been a weird day reading the horrific changes The Trump passed into laws today on his way to emporership.

Drugs won’t really help, but…

No. I got nothing. No buts. I shouldn’t do it. I’m out of chocolate, and I need that to cleanse the palette. I have waffles I guess.

Ah well… I won’t sleep in this mood (I convince myself, so it becomes true) so I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll be productive after all.

I’m in a bit of a slump with my excitement in programming. My excitement in all the things is weak right now because other people do things better and … I stop myself.

I need more happy thoughts. Not depressing thoughts and I know the cure.

End of part 1.