The weed wasn’t enough anymore, and they needed the next best high.
Follow me as I write to the boys who put me down and tried to make me feel small. For they failed.
Many people let bumps in their journey, or on their skin, set them back. Don’t do that. Paint them in gold.
The smallest story of the greatest tragedy
I am scared to die, but frequently I don’t want to exist.
All these Substances, weed, alcohol, have become a social bridge that people need in order to connect with others. Its a “must” for every party, every get together, every celebration. That gets hard when that isn’t your go-to.
I think the feelings of sadness come from the fact that we try and do everything right. Go to work, try hard in school, maybe even exercise, drink eight glasses of water a day, whatever it is, we try to do the right thing. And yet, it feels wrong.