When I was a child I thought my adult life would consist of avoiding quicksand, people offering me free drugs, and that at some point I would need to stop, drop, and roll.
As an adult instead I’ve developed the healthier fear that the earth would open up and swallow me into a crushing wet abyss. I know it’s only reported to have happened to that one guy who was sleeping and his bedroom disappeared, but that it happened once is confirmation that I could be next! 🫣
More that quicksand exists in known areas, people haven’t randomly offered me drugs, and thankfully I’ve managed to not have an accident involving fire.
But sink holes? Those fuckers open up wherever the hell they damn please and when they feel like it. Do I dwell on it daily? Of course not, but living in the Midwest my level of concern over sink holes is less than tornadoes, but definitely greater than quicksand.
You’re just not the kind of guy people want to see get high, or get high with. Think about Snoop Dogg. Here’s a guy who’s made millions, if not billions of dollars. He can afford the best weed on earth. He’s known for being high. He’s popular enough that people want to smoke with him. Yet I’m sure, people offer him random mid level garbage weed that they think is good, but Snoop says is not worth his time. All day long, people offering him weed.
And then there’s me. You’ve never heard of me. I’m not rich. Yet for something like 15 years I never once paid for weed. There was always SOMEONE who wanted to smoke with me, because I’d have the most random, entertaining conversations and perspectives that would blow peoples minds when they’re high. So people in my area viewed me as some kind of local drug celebrity.
The problem with that is, one day you look around at the people surrounding you, and you realize nobody cares about you. They care about your performance. They care about your entertainment value to THEM. They don’t give a shit if you’re sad that day. They don’t care if you just don’t want to talk. They just want to pump you full of drugs, and watch the monkey dance, so to speak.
That’s when you start this introverted analysis over everybody in your life, and wondering why they’re in your life. For me personally, I found that not one single person around me actually had my back. It was just the allure of being around me for their pleasure. Which is a lot like being a kid, and only having friends because you have cool toys. Eventually you realize you don’t have friends. You have an entourage. An entourage that would dump you instantly if they had something better going for them.
So I just started kicking people out of my life. What’s funny is, the few that I didn’t kick out, because they seemed like they might be genuinely enjoying spending time with me, just sort of stopped talking to me if I wasn’t going to be smoking weed with them. So now I’m an adult, with no friends, and not really sure if that’ll change before I die, because I don’t know how to make real friends.
So I’d rather be in your shoes. Someone who’s never been offered free drugs, but does have friends who would be there for them.
When I was a child I thought my adult life would consist of avoiding quicksand, people offering me free drugs, and that at some point I would need to stop, drop, and roll.
As an adult instead I’ve developed the healthier fear that the earth would open up and swallow me into a crushing wet abyss. I know it’s only reported to have happened to that one guy who was sleeping and his bedroom disappeared, but that it happened once is confirmation that I could be next! 🫣
You fear something that happened once, but the things that happen to hundreds of millions every year don’t overpower that dramatically?
More that quicksand exists in known areas, people haven’t randomly offered me drugs, and thankfully I’ve managed to not have an accident involving fire.
But sink holes? Those fuckers open up wherever the hell they damn please and when they feel like it. Do I dwell on it daily? Of course not, but living in the Midwest my level of concern over sink holes is less than tornadoes, but definitely greater than quicksand.
You’re just not the kind of guy people want to see get high, or get high with. Think about Snoop Dogg. Here’s a guy who’s made millions, if not billions of dollars. He can afford the best weed on earth. He’s known for being high. He’s popular enough that people want to smoke with him. Yet I’m sure, people offer him random mid level garbage weed that they think is good, but Snoop says is not worth his time. All day long, people offering him weed.
And then there’s me. You’ve never heard of me. I’m not rich. Yet for something like 15 years I never once paid for weed. There was always SOMEONE who wanted to smoke with me, because I’d have the most random, entertaining conversations and perspectives that would blow peoples minds when they’re high. So people in my area viewed me as some kind of local drug celebrity.
The problem with that is, one day you look around at the people surrounding you, and you realize nobody cares about you. They care about your performance. They care about your entertainment value to THEM. They don’t give a shit if you’re sad that day. They don’t care if you just don’t want to talk. They just want to pump you full of drugs, and watch the monkey dance, so to speak.
That’s when you start this introverted analysis over everybody in your life, and wondering why they’re in your life. For me personally, I found that not one single person around me actually had my back. It was just the allure of being around me for their pleasure. Which is a lot like being a kid, and only having friends because you have cool toys. Eventually you realize you don’t have friends. You have an entourage. An entourage that would dump you instantly if they had something better going for them.
So I just started kicking people out of my life. What’s funny is, the few that I didn’t kick out, because they seemed like they might be genuinely enjoying spending time with me, just sort of stopped talking to me if I wasn’t going to be smoking weed with them. So now I’m an adult, with no friends, and not really sure if that’ll change before I die, because I don’t know how to make real friends.
So I’d rather be in your shoes. Someone who’s never been offered free drugs, but does have friends who would be there for them.