Once you've scoured the fibers of your carpet for a molecule of weed, you know you've reached an all time low. Until you smoke the treasure you've managed to find. And then, well, it's somewhat of a low high. Sure you're laughing to yourself about how bitterly amusing your once innocent habit has morphed into a crippling addiction, but there are tears under those laughs. And you need to continue to laugh to keep the demons at bay. No, not again, you say. You won't let them have at you. You laugh to distract from the cold you feel at night, clutching the empty pillow next to you. You laugh because, hey, what else can you do. Denial is better than excepting your pitiful existence.
Which is why I'm glad I'm not you! Wow, that must suck. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got weed dust to smoke.
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