High

High Rants from an 18 year old (female) stoner.

[daftsailor]

Entry 7 - 07.21.17 5:04pm ET

I feel like I’m fooling myself with the idea that I’m so much happier, that I’m getting so much closer to recovery. But then shit happens and I find myself face in my pillow sobbing and snotting all over the place. 

And I keep asking myself these stupid questions that I’m so fucking tired of having to ask myself:

How much longer do I have to do this?

Why can’t I just be okay for like two seconds without breaking down like a fucking toddler?

Why can’t I just fucking be dead already?

Why do I feel like this, what the fuck why did I just say I want to be dead why can’t I get past this already?

I thought I was doing good what the fuck is this?

And then finally:

Fuck. 

And in my head are billions of thoughts that just keep flying in and they’re like running circles on speed and they won't leave me alone. And they just make my head hurt so fucking much and I can’t even think anything but these horrible things. I’ll begin to doubt myself and I’ll begin to hate myself and all of these malicious thoughts will float around about the people I love that are immediately followed with an immense guilt that I would ever think such things. And then those malicious thoughts are pivoted toward myself and it just takes over my body to where i can’t even do the simplest fucking thing without hating myself for it.

And then I’ll mentally slap myself in the face. Wake up, wake up, wake up. And I’ll shake the shit out of my head a little bit and I’ll sniffle and wipe my face and put my “OK” mask on and begin reprimanding myself for this break down, as if I’m not entitled to it, because it’s not okay for me to lose my shit. I’ll give myself this morbid little pep talk: “I’m [MyName] for God’s sake! I've got my shit together!”. And then I’ll go about my day as if nothing happened and I’ll forget about this ever happening and I’ll shove it to the back of my head.

And I’ll just continue. Until the next one, of course. And then the cycle repeats.

[daftsailor]

Entry 6 - 07.15.17 10:53pm ET

I feel so fucking dead, like coming here to type this entry was like the hardest thing to do but I’m trying to build a habit of getting an entry in every day even though i’m high literally every entry I do (that’s the goal). This probably isn’t even a cohesive passage, like you probably wouldn’t read this and think “oh yeah definitely this is a completely comprehensive post. Anyway this is me ‘checking in’ because I feel like I need to do something to keep me from going insane. I’ve been cooped up on the Eastern side of the world for too long and I’m so fucking homesick man it’s insane. Everything feels like such a struggle to get up and do because it feels pointless because there’s nothing here for me, nothing to tie me down to this place. I’m just visiting family and am stuck in this empty house, no friends near enough to hang out with, no walkable places to go explore and it’s just so fucking hot outside that I can’t even just go out in the backyard and enjoy the sun without scorching myself. I’m damn-near just sleeping until the day that I have to leave comes. This feels over dramatic but you would be the same if you were stuck in a basement for a month.

[daftsailor]

Entry 5 - 07.14.17 5:30pm ET

I am one of those girls who feels perfectly comfortable admitting that I love sex. Hell, I could almost have sex 3 times a day, everyday.

However when I say that I love sex, that doesn’t mean that I’m down to meet you and fuck you on the same night and not expect to see or contact you again. That’s not how it works for me, and this applies whether the person I am pursuing is male, female, or other. If I’m having sex on the first night with someone that I just met, it’s because this person has ignited a hunger in me to connect with them. And because of this, I’m going to need to be in contact with this person for a while. I want to know the person on a deeper social, mental, and physical level. It’s important that I know how this person ticks, what separates them from everyone else, and what fuels their fire.

I’ve done the one night stand thing. It was an out-of-body experience. Not in a good way but in a way that made me feel like I was betraying myself. I felt so disconnected from the person fucking me it was as if we weren’t even in the same room. 

And then I had passionate sex for the first time. The hard breathing, rhythmless sex that blows your mind. I felt so in sync, so at one with this person loving my body that I couldn’t imagine why sex would be anything else.

So ladies, gentlemen, others: I am not saying that I don’t condone casual sex, I am completely fine with it, I’ve done it myself. I’m just saying that there is so much to be gained from meaningful sex.

[daftsailor]

Entry 4 - 07.13.17 9:07pm ET

Why can’t I accept my body just the way it is? Why do I act like I pride myself in the generally fit condition of my body, but always find some new flaw when I’m naked and forced to look at myself? Around my friends “I’m perfectly okay with, in fact I love, the size of my breasts” but alone I’m grabbing at them and hating them. My butt is great when I’m around my friends and others, but when I’m alone it sticks out too much or its too little or there are too many stretch marks. I always find something wrong with myself, which just fuels the intense feeling of disappointment I hold toward myself for daring to hate the body and skin that I live in.

[giggle]

[daftsailor]

This is the official ‘i care’ symbol. This is how it works:

Basically you reblog this, and your followers know that you care and that they can message you about anything anon or not and you will reply back or at least look at their message.

[daftsailor]

Entry 3 - 07.12.17 10:01pm ET

I spent the entire second semester as a high school senior completely baked sunrise to sunset and beyond, I kid you not. So as I sit here in my bed naked and zooted beyond belief, singing in an obnoxiously loud voice to a song that I’m low-key ashamed to be listening to right now (ZAYN’s PILLOWTALK), I’ll tell you about my second semester of high school as a clever stoner.

If you don’t want to listen to it, kindly fuck off.

So I haven’t been a full blown stoner until the beginning of the fourth quarter, which is around late March. Before then I was just a casual smoker. By casual I mean like once every few days. I started smoking daily when I knew where I was going to college and was told I only needed to achieve C’s or higher to secure my admission. Classes were getting easier, I knew what I needed to for the upcoming tests, I had like zero homework and was finally comfortable with the people around me. And so I was free to smoke more since I didn’t feel I needed to really pay attention in classes (which I didn’t because at that point teachers were just playing movies and sitting there). So I would light up at the park near my school before school started. Sometimes I would smoke during lunch, but I would most definitely smoke after school, sometimes alone sometimes with friends, and I might sneak in another before bed. Does that sound like a lot? Maybe. Maybe not.

I had a point to make when I started typing this article, now I have no idea where I’m going by telling you this...

Grades. That was my point; despite all this smoking and how high I was during school, I surpassed the low expectations I set for myself to ensure my admission to the school I was accepted into. I graduated with straight A’s (except for one pesky little B from Intro to Fitness - but we can skim over that) even though I was high in at least 4 of my 6 classes every day. How did I do that, you ask? Teach me oh noble queen how to succeed like you.

The secret is this: don’t just sit and play video games or tv while you’re high on nary-jane. Get shit done. Do your work/homework, read an assigned reading, take notes. I found myself really being able to get simple stuff done while high, even found myself a bit more focused on menial tasks that would usually bore the living shit out of me. 

It may be hard to believe, and it could just be that I’m insane and making this up to be something that it’s not...But I think that because I started actually getting stuff done on every occasion that I smoked, I created a habit that positively accompanied my daily smoking.

[daftsailor]

Entry 2 - 07.11.17 8:19pm ET

God I’m so stupid. If there’s one thing I hate about myself, it’s that I’m constantly telling people “No, I don’t do relationships” following it up with a more detailed explanation with how I’m a complicated human being with a complicated past that’s concentrated with bad experiences to rival that of a 60 year old housewife. I’ll always ask myself “why would anyone want to have to deal with me?”. But now here I am after this guy (whom I am low-key in love with) didn’t respond to my text for a little over 7 hours, having been sparked with a long internal conflict. To add a little bit of context, this ‘guy’ and I have been texting nonstop (as in at least every ten minutes) and talking on the phone for hours with every night into the early hours of the morning (since he’s currently back home in CA while I'm visiting family for a month in VA). 

At the 1-hour mark I had settled on giving him some space to text me back. Maybe he was with his friends hanging out, having fun. But in the back of my mind, I was thinking back to this pretty girl he was having breakfast with that I saw on his snapchat story earlier. 

At the 3-hour mark, I was out there literally pulling myself away from my phone so I didn’t end up texting him something like ‘?’ or ‘You okay’. I was trying to tell myself “No, you aren’t gonna give in and give him the upper hand in this situation.” I was damn-near convinced that this was some kind of test for him to see how long I could last without contacting him.

The 5-hour mark was when I went to the dark place. My head shot up in the middle of sketching a little drawing with this thought: “what if he’s dead! what if he got hit by a car and was in the hospital dying! And I would just be here with NO IDEA!”. I was bordering hysteria.

At the 7-hour mark I had just settled on anger. My conclusion was: “He doesn’t want me anymore” and “God he’s a dick!”. Then he texted me.

7:34 PM - Hey kitten. Sorry i was with friends but now I’m home

All of that bullshit running through my head and he had just forgotten his phone in the car. And here I am, my overly dependent little bitch ass barely being able  survive him not texting me back for 7 hours.

Smh.

[daftsailor]

Entry 1 - 07.10.17 10:30pm ET

High. Welcome to my Blog.