Four Twenty Two

On this 420 day I would like to remind you all that weed is not a victimless substance. 

I have heard a 19 yo confess that for a period of time they spent $240 per month on weed, out of their $800 minimum-wage part time job.

I have seen people who won't take any job that requires a drug test even a random one, and unable/unwilling to stay off of it for 30 days just to pass the test.

I have seen the irritability, the mood swing, the unchecked emotion and anger because of the withdrawal. I have seen people got really furious when they were not allowed to have it.

I have seen people jump right back after restrictions on them was lifted. I have seen people who think I am being extra because I do not like it and do not wish to partake. 

"But that's not me. I am careful. I am responsible. I am not taking it when I shouldn't take it, and I am not making it a habit. And most importantly, I can afford it."

Well you can. Others, not so much. Especially if they are a young adult barely in their 20s with their first minimum wage job. Or just landed a student loan and struggling to keep yourself in check. 

It is scary how many (young) people think it's funny to go to work stoned. Unfortunately some of the better-paying job traditionally requires you to not be under influence when you are working, and will enforce drug test.

But what happened when partaking the grass becomes a part of you? A part of your identity and who you think you are? What if you can't get a better paying job because you are unwilling or unable to stop using it? 

What happen if the XX amount of 'fun money' becomes a must expenditure like your car insurance and rent? What if the 'relaxation method' becomes something that you need to have in order to function?

For a non-US citizen, even those with green card, weed is still a federal offense and you can easily lose your right to stay because of it. If you are not a citizen, this is not something you should take lightly.

Right now weed and its derivatives are hailed as the cool thing. The good grass. The must-have. If you are one of those people who can keep it under control, you are privileged.

Remember that there are others are not as privileged as yours. Just like coffee, substances affect people differently. Not everyone can have the salary or self-control to sustain such habit. 

I know I am being very uncool, but just as we prefer our products to be slave-free and responsibly-sourced it is important to think where or what happened to other people who partake it. 

It's important to think do we want to be a part of a culture that can very much harm other people, not unlike us questioning if we want to continue to support Amazon or Walmart.

Because it is harmful. It is not victimless. It can destroy life and future. Especially if you are a young adult, in which you can be attached to it all of your life without knowing how to break free.

So think carefully before you partake or encouraging someone to partake. It's all fun and game until someone got stuck in life because they are chained to it. All things comes with a cost.

9.30 AM

9.30 am and I am drunk. No, not the cute giggling mimosa drunk that somehow still look pretty. It's the "Speeding in inhumanely speed through my board game and grope you in between" drunk. 

(I wonder if my Twilight Imperium board game group will allow me to play in such manner. Pro: I might win. Con: their gfs might not be thrilled. I mean, I am an equal opportunity groper I mean lover. They are welcome to join.)

It's one of those days where I want to drag my ex-bf by the collar and tell him, "Listen a-hole. You would have to spend this lifetime's worth of good karma and more just to find someone remotely like me. With all the loving and loyalty I could give, with all the passion and excitement that I offered."

" You would be extremely lucky to find someone who love you enough to trade a life of glitz and glamour in downtown LA, strolling around at the operas and dance venues, and choose to be utterly invisible as your Stepford wife."

But none of this matter. None. To a person, you only worth as much as they are willing to see your worth. You can't change any of that. You could be the most amazing person ever and someone will still think you are sh-t.

I can't force him to see my worth. No matter how much mimosa I drank, nothing will change. I know I need to let it go, and I will. It gets easier by the day. I understand that it wasn't meant to be. I have accepted that I need to reset my life and start anew.

But sometimes I just need to get drunk at 9.30 in the morning. Because losing his love wasn't easy, even when I knew the condition was not healthy for me. Because I miss him so damn much. Because even in the death of our relationship I am still not willing to let him go.

I promise you I will be fine. It's like dancing. One step backwards so you can take two step forward. I will be fine. 

Accepting grief is self-healing. Soon all these negative talks will recede, displaced by fun flirty pictures and my usual weird yet (thought) provoking posts. It's ok to be sad. It's being generous to myself. It's not weak. I want to believe this. I have to believe this.

It's ok to be confined in this quicksand for a bit. It's giving myself a time to heal and to get better. It prepares me to say goodbye in a healthy way. It's ok to not be ok.

I love you babe. I really do. You are my moon and stars. I would have raised dragons for you, even if it means burning myself to cinders. But it's time to say goodbye. It's time for me to be me. I love you, precious. I really do.

Rage And Grace

The last package has arrived. With this, there's nothing else tied me and my ex-bf together.

It feels... empty. 

Getting this package was painful. He was uncommunicative and told me he was just extremely busy. I got bitter and angry because I felt he was punishing me with his silence, that I wasn't worth a few seconds of his time to text back.

My friends said that's just how some people cope. Yet I was blinded by rage. Why do I have to feel I am worthless because that's how he cope? Do I not deserve to feel sad and angry? Why am I being discarded and forgotten?

On and on the anger went. But for what?

Why does it matter that he refused to talk to me? Or that I feel I mean nothing for him? Why does it bother me so much to feel that he wants to erase me off of his memory? Or that we simply cannot be friends or even be cordial to each other?

I love him, that's why. Pride and greed rear their ugly heads and pounced. I love him and I want him still. More than anything in this world. And I could not take the feeling of not being wanted anymore. I want him and I want him to want me.

But life is more than just about "wants". We are compatible in many ways, but we will never agree on our key differences. It can be done, but it will require great sacrifices and a mountain of effort. At the time of this writing, it was not going to happen.

So why even bother getting angry?

This writing is not about him. It's about me. It's about my failure to act with grace. I am ashamed of it. It's about me burning to cinder from unchecked rage. I deeply regret it.

The inside of my mouth tastes bitter. Anger was never pleasant. I wish I wasn't so angry. I wish I could calm my pride and hug my greed tight. I wish I could tell my pride that what he thinks shouldn't matter anymore, and gently reminding my greed that we don't have to have everything that we want.

He said I was looking for a fight. Maybe I was. I took the bait and ran with it. It may makes it easier for him to hate me now. After all, have he not just proven to the world I am a selfish insensitive person who cares not about his current predicament? Have he not just unveiled that I am a "me me me" person? Good for him to dodge the bullet.

But I don't want to hate him.

I don't want to live with the recollection of anger in my head. I don't want to live with his spiteful version etched in my heart. I want to remember his smile, his embraces, his love. I want to remember us dancing in Disneyland and napping on the sofa.

I want to remember how his face light up when I told him he is an amazing person. I want to remember rolling on the bed to spoon him and felt all is well in this world. I want to remember kissing him gently, passionately, lovingly. I want to remember the man I love.

I want him to think of me kindly, but what he thinks of me has nothing to do with me. It's no longer about 'us'. It's about 'me' now. I have to live with myself. I have to heal.

And a part of healing is forgiving myself.

I can't take back my anger, and I grieve for it. I can't make it not happening. I can't undo the words I unleashed on him. Even when a small part of my head told me it's good for him that someone dares to defy him, I still can't accept my action. 

I will forever carry this moment with me, a shameful reminder of my unchecked rage. I will remember the time when I hurt the person I love. Whether he deserves it or not is not the question. I still did it. I was hurt and I striked back. This is not who I want to be.

But it happens. It was not okay but it happened. Nothing good will come up by only wailing that it happened. It is a painful and expensive way to be taught to be graceful, to keep my head high instead of drowning in fury. It is a lesson I need to understand and take to heart.

.

.

.

I wish him the best, for he is precious.

I wish me the best, for I am precious.

I wish peace for both of us, for we deserve it.

I love him dearly, and I should love myself as dear.

No more rage. No more.