Quit Chronicles: Cutting Back

  

This is day one of hardcore cutting down. I have to say that dispensary weed is a whole new ball game. I think I said this before. At nine am, I’m already feeling what I call The Fun. You know that feeling when someone is rattling off at the mouth and you’re just sitting their taking their shit while wanting to knock them out? That’s what I feel right now, but for no reason. I will take this for the time I’m writing and then go for a smoke.

What I call the Shtistorm hasn’t started yet. It won’t until I go a full 24-48 hours with nothing. You just go and go and friggin’ go, and if anyone says anything untoward to you…holy fuck. There’s a song about it by Strapping Young Lad—that’s where I got the same. It’s about quitting weed, and it’s damn near the most insane song I’ve ever heard. I’ve you’ve been using weed to correct anger issues due to bipolar (as Dev was) when you quit, you, and all around you, are potentially fucked. If you don’t know what’s going to happen to you, watch out.

Luckily, I do know what's going to happen. That makes it easier. Probably no one will say anything shitty to me. Usually, people don't. If they do, I think I'll know enough to just let it slide. In that state of mind, I don't even want to start with anyone. And after all, it's only a 96-hour trial, and that's not bad when you consider the 240 hours that goes along with heroin and meth. I believe I've acquired enough self-awareness to keep it in check for that long. 

People don't understand that bullshit gets everyone in trouble. You either look stupid or you go to jail, that's it. Think about it. You get whupped, look dumb, you do the whuppin, cops come. That's a rhyme waiting to happen.

Anyway--

I haven’t reached that stormy point. Yet. A little pathological zap—that’s all I’m getting. Like that leg jumpiness. Funny thing is, gut jumpiness is less. I usually have this ridiculous anxiety zap ish that happens to me, and ugly thoughts follow, this time when it’s happening, I’m just like, oh shut the fuck up. You just want drugs. And you know what? It’s not answering back. Interesting. That brain fog everyone talks about that tends not to happen to me when I smoke (or maybe I missed it--feels different to me, like not fog, but more like comfort?)—I can feel that shit now. My fingers are less coordinated, but not by much.

Y’all know what a dynamo is, right? A couple of you probably even are one. I have a sneaking suspicion that I might be one of those underneath the dope. I wrote a long explanation justifying this and killed it. If I'm right, you'll see. If you're laughing at the idea of me doing that, go on until the day comes, you can, but you better be right. With stuff like that, you'd always better be right. Folks that have bet even with life enough times know this.

I could look at myself and say I better be right because we can't be having meltdowns. But this is a little different. This ball never stops being in my court, and that matters.