My struggles with “Freedom”
My first spliff sent me nowhere far. The concept of it did, however, make me reach skyscraper heights. But only the midget ones. She thought ingestion would do the trick with me. Boy was I tricked! It’s far from shocking what a bowl full of chocolate cereal marinated with weed can do to you. I know what ‘numb’ means and I am well aware that I love being in control now. I fell into it obliquely and twistedly, much like an afternoon dream. In one moment everything slowed down, it felt magical…truly.
My movements fascinated me the most. I felt like I could do anything,, but mostly burn because it was a very hot afternoon, or late morning, I can’t be sure. And then ‘he’ arrived. I had absolutely no memory of any date being set for that day…whatever day it was. My concept of time was thoroughly boggled up. All I did was smile sheepishly at him as he walked towards me. With my brain all jumbled up I felt an irritation with myself for the state I was in.
He spoke to her in a reprehensive tone about our toxicating actions. He also expressed censure and I could tell he had really looked forward to meeting me again. A trickle in between my legs made me shiver slightly so I moved closer to him, placed my hands on his chest and let my other hand wander to his bulge.
He smirked and asked if I wanted it. I studied his face, as if I understood something ethereal shared between us. With a terribly deliberate bite of my lower lip and a careful avoidance of his eyes, I giggled, as if pre-practised, and whispered that I was on my period. My subconscious got me out of that one. My sexual nature almost knows no boundaries. I remember him pressing me against the bolted door and planting an impassioned hard kiss on my pre-parted wet lips then proceeding to pushing me gently aside so he could leave.
She inquisitioned him on why he was leaving and he muttered that I was as good as a zombie. The sound of these words furthered my fall off the cliff of sanity and the rest of the day became a solid blur. My fight with a dis-ease of my own making brought me to a number of conclusions about myself. First, I hate drugs. And second, I love drinking. Most argued that this was my first trial and I cannot assume a stand yet but I strongly disagree.
With control-freak tendencies it is intensely frightening to be drugged and restrained to an anonymous reality. I realise that now. Then again, perhaps I overdid it. Whatever the case maybe, smoking is not my forte. Overstimulation did not drive me, although I must admit, it took me a distance I still thirst for even to this second. I suspect that this is the form in which addictions are packaged. How does the story end? Well, I resuscitated from the bad trip the very next day after a death-like slumber. I have no memory of food consumption, neither did my memory recall serving my body any recreational duties. It felt like being locked in a world where the world was not searching for meanings to our existence. This scared me meticulously but I still found my common sense in a common bottle.