“I should have just been a fucking rockstar”
My morning ritual of racing in circles and self loathing was well on its way.
“I should have just dropped out of school, did a bunch of drugs and partied like a fucking rockstar. Should have just said ‘fuck the world’ and did whatever the fuck I wanted to do.”
Only the latter was the truth. These are real thoughts I had amid tantrums, messes from the realm of the unknown, and utter burn-out. Over the past few years I’ve developed a kind of bitterness and anger I found both unshakable and fleeting. Its fleeting nature led me to believe it was at least avoidable but unfortunately it’s now been around long enough to become part of my personality.
I got a long list of why’s, but most of the reasons are just as transient as the bitter emotions they evoke. While psychoanalyzing myself ad nauseam, I learned this new agitation has significantly increased since I started smoking consistently.
Honestly, I’m okay with it.
As of now I don’t expect to stop, simply because my mental health is better because of cannabis, even with this newfound rage. I think it’s a common misconception that weed changes one’s emotions. I found it to be the opposite – it brings my emotions to my attention, but rather puts them in their proper container so my emotional state is both easier to manage and sometimes even hilarious.
This being said, I’ve recently become curious about my emotional tantruming and its connection to my consumption. I think weed brings out this certain “fuck off” vibe. I mean, why be bothered when you can just . . . not be bothered? In this state, it becomes more clear how many things are fighting for my attention and energy, and how often I reluctantly agree for the sake of behaving. What’s worse is when something or someone kills my vibe because I somehow can’t resist a little bit of drama.
I used to behave, say what’s right, and go along just to get along. I did everything I was “supposed” to do and – not to brag or anything – I did it all well. I was a quiet, well behaved and agreeable child, got all my good grades and cleaned my plate, was nice to my elders and friends, worked hard and got promotions and raises, said please, thank you and smiled. I eventually climbed my way to the top and became a good responsible adult.
*Gag*
I realized that I arrived nowhere when, at my lowest point, none of my problems went away and I was less equipped to handle them than ever before. Marijuana came into my life in a new way – as an entire way of life. I can catch a vibe, feel good about myself and every once in a while, I feel alive. Like my own superhero flying high above the sky, I can finally do something about the expectations that crush my wings.
I can let it go.
Yes, now I let it go with agitation (seriously, everyone can fuck off, and should if they need to). But I wonder if it’s better to embrace those parts of us that only come from our audacity to be free.
Could I possibly be a good girl gone mad?