What Quitting Pot Feels Like

I used to smoke weed every single night until I decided it’s probably not good for me, and I should probably focus on school right now since exams are coming. So I’ve quit for a few days and so far here are the side effects:

- I’m hungrier. It sounds weird but when I got really stoned I never felt hungry. I was too busy focusing on getting my mind blown by my hair color and how it’s “sooo light now” and listening to random people’s conversations. I never felt hungry when I smoked pot, the opposite on the munchie stereotype. 

- I’m angrier. I have a stupid bitch of an across-the-hallmate that hangs out with me and my group of friends, and when she was talking to me today today I wanted to punch her in the face so hard and she wasn’t even doing anything wrong.

- My memory is better. Yeah yeah, you’re gonna give me all this crap about how weed “makes you smarter man”, but I find myself actually able to recall what I did in a day, which is more than I could say when I was smoking weed all the time. Also can remember facts better. Also, I can argue with people WAY better now.

I seek alternate highs. Lately that’s sex/masturbation/getting slightly drunk. I need a replacement for the consistent high that was once in my life.

 

The Problem With Idolizing Marilyn Monroe

Annex - Monroe, Marilyn_NRFPT_202

Let me start by saying I completely understand the appeal of Marilyn Monroe. She’s captivating to watch on screen, incredibly unique with her look and adorable voice and innocence. She has natural charisma, and beautiful face, and a rocking body. She was nice to everyone and never seemed to let the fame get to her head. What’s not to love?

I idolized her for quite some time. I bleached my hair blonde, tried to imitate her sunny disposition, tried to literally always be smiling. She is comparable to a Barbie doll in this way. Unnaturally happy. I wanted to be her, until a realization hit me harder than a truck.

It happened overnight. As usual, I’d spent the night purely giving to other people. I gave my closest friends tons of shots, cigarettes, good conversation about themselves, feeding into their selfishness. I danced with boys I didn’t want to at all. Because it was the “right” thing to do. By the end of the night, I was smashed and forgot my student card in my room (it lets you get in your room). I called my friends to try to bail me out. Not a single one of them answered.

I banged on the door a hundred times. I called each and every one of the friends who could bail me out and was ignored. I did nothing but give to these people and they did nothing but take in return. I got nothing back.

Eventually I talked to a woman at the front desk and she gave me a spare key, but the realization stuck. You have to put YOURSELF first. In this way, it relates to Marilyn Monroe.

Marilyn was a woman who lived entirely for other people, so much so that she neglected herself entirely. In the interviews I watched of her extensively, she told everyone she was happy when she wasn’t. She was always smiling even to people who treated her rudely and didn’t deserve her kindness.

Everything about her is designed to be perfect for everyone else. Her unnaturally bleached blonde hair, all of the makeup (even though it looked fantastic), the constantly happy attitude, never talking about her own problems, pretending they weren’t there. In the few glimpses we get of her, she is absolutely flawless. When in reality, she wasn’t.

The image she was projecting was completely fake. She cared too much about making everyone else happy when she should’ve been focusing on herself. In this selfish world, people just took and took from her until she had nothing left to give.

True strength comes from not putting pleasing everyone else above your own wants. Being able to love yourself and not being so concerned with the opinions of those around you. Make yourself happy first. It is not your job to be a martyr and give to those who don’t give back. Treat people with the attitudes they deserve, but first and foremost, PUT YOURSELF FIRST.

More Places I Need to Visit

Cairo, Egypt

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Buddha Temple, Datdawtaung Cave, Myanmar

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Alaska

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Paris

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Fisherman’s Bastion, Hungary

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Monument Valley, Utah

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Prague

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Collège de Valleyfield, Quebec, Canada

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Manhattan Beach Pier, California

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Portland, Maine

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Cherry Blossom Lake, Sakura, Japan

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Taj Mahal, India

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Romania

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Lake Louise, Canada

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New Zealand

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Ambiguous Things That Make You Feel Like You’re Cheating

Everyone knows the basic definition of cheating. Being sexually unfaithful to your significant other. I always considered this kissing and anything beyond that. 

I would avoid doing any of these things if you have a significant other that you genuinely love. However, I’m drunk maybe 30% of the time and am a people pleaser so sometimes I end up doing the following:

Cuddling: An old fling and sleeping over. He tries to make a move on you but you can’t, you have a boyfriend. Your whole downstairs floor smells like weed and security is looking for someone with weed so you can’t go back down for the night. Use this as an excuse to justify sleeping in the same bed as him, cuddling the whole time. 

Being Kissed: Even if you give no response, it was a light peck (from a random girl) and were too drunk to really know what was happening. You feel guilty for even being in that situation. No big deal right? You didn’t take it further and you’ll never see her again.

Flashing a Stranger: Just cause you’re wild, and drunk and on omegle with your drunk friends. A really attractive guy asks you to, and you consider it fine because you’re not the one trying to get off, and you’ll never meet him, and it means nothing, and it’s all jokes. So why do you feel guilty? Because you shouldn’t be doing stuff like this.

Going to a Lesbian Party as a Straight Girl

So one of my best friends, L, is a lesbian. She owns that fact and isn’t afraid to comment on the hotness of another girl, and is very open about her sexuality. It’s very refreshing. Anyways, she along with our other straight friend B, decided to go to a lesbian party on our university campus. She heard of this event through Facebook, which is a tad sketchy but I trusted L’s judgement.

So we buy Smirnoff ice vodka off of our of-age friend and an old ex fling, K. It is K’s birthday the next day so we give him free shots. We all pre game in his dorm room. After just 2 shots, I was certainly feeling it. Don’t drink on an empty stomach. I was immediately the drunkest one there. We go to the convenience store across the street to pick up a decent chase, and a pack of cigarettes, chain-smoking all the way there (please don’t smoke for God’s sake). We wait for the cab for almost 45 minutes, calling several times, forgetting the address, getting hung up on, and swearing at the cab dispatcher dude. K decides to take shots outside the convenience store, straight out of the bottle like the classy guy he is.

We all go out for another smoke and decide to call a different taxi number. This one shows up in ten minutes. K decides to leave because he didn’t want to be the only guy at a lesbian party. So we finally arrive around 11-11:30ish and head up to the door. It looks like your average student house. We can hear music blasting from the outside. I knock on the door and get let in by some random girl. No warm welcomes or anything but we head in anyways and find ourselves in a living room. The rooms filled with girls, as we suspected, broken off into different cliques, as girls tend to do. No guys in sight. We take a seat on the couch.

I make conversation with the unfriendly girl next to me. She tells me we didn’t miss too much, just some beer pong. Great. I drunkenly go around asking for a shot glass after getting pressured by B and P. Someone gives me one that says “I Eat Pussy Like a Fat Kid Eats Cake.” L gets really excited, and tells them she has the same shot glass. Each of us take two more shots.

A bare-faced but pretty girl comes up to us and compliments us on our hair. She tells us she wants to go blonder herself and that she has virgin hair (never been dyed). I tell her to go for it. She’s smashed. She tells us to keep an eye out for her cell phone because she lost it.

I tell her I’ll keep an eye out and head into the other room with my girls where people are playing beer pong, but with water… A short brunette with blue eyes, T, and some skinny bitch with a red top. We ask if we can play. They tell us yes, yes we can. It’s B and I versus these two. They add in a new rule that I’ve never heard of. While throwing the ball, you must look your opponent directly in the eyes. It seems like a ploy to fuck us up but I’m too drunk to care.

We play and both teams are god awful. This rule makes it impossible to win. The shorter chick refers to me as “blondey.” I start to get bored and talk to that bare-faced girl I was talking to earlier. We get into an intense conversation about our exes. She is also straight, apparently. She suggests finding a room where we can talk. I say sure. So she leads me upstairs and asks the host if there’s a place we can talk privately. The host and her two guy friends (first guys I’ve seen all night) ask us why and suggest we talk there instead. Her name’s Ashley, and like almost all girls I know named Ashley, she is blonde and bitchy. I have literally no idea what we talked about but everyone was very involved in the conversation. The guys looked like twins, I think. 

L comes up to me and tells me to get back to the beer pong game. So we trade places, L takes my place talking to these randoms while I go back downstairs to play beer pong. We have only one cup left (meaning we’re probably going to lose) and they have 3. I get my game face on. There’s no fucking way I’m going to lose. They decided to drop the eye contact rule which made my life ten times easier. 

B was no help at all as a partner but she was good at encouraging me. I held my breath as I took each shot and guess what? I got it in. All three times. I was too smashed to remember specific details but I do remember being way overexcited about it, hopping up and down and high-fiving B. The short chick, T, offers us some Malibu rum for winning, makes out with the skinny bitch in the red top (they made out a lot that night), and tells us we can keep the rum which she later accused us of stealing. 

We end up outside for a cigarette, me, L, B, and the skinny bitch in the red top. I ask for a smoke from her and she steals my lighter. I ask for it back and she denies that she has it, even though I watched her put it in her pocket. But that lighter is actually L’s and she gives the ok. She lights my cigarette and says “pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes.” I didn’t even want the cigarette so I give it to B. B is smashed out of her fucking mind. She asks if what we are experiencing is real life. Seeing her so wasted sobered me up a bit. We head inside after the smoke is done and I see the girl I was playing beer pong with earlier.

She bumps into me and says “Oh whoops, I thought you were her for a second” (referring to the skinny bitch in the red top). She kisses me on the lips, pretty briefly. I give no response whatsoever. She tells me “don’t tell anyone” and walks away.

B has to go to the washroom so we go together. She unknowingly left her purse in this washroom.

Everyone wants to go to the bar and me and my friends are only 19 so we can’t get in. They tell us it’s all ages (a total fucking lie). So we get in a cab and head back to campus. During the car ride I talked to the bare-faced chick. She found her cell phone and all is well. The guy sitting next to me makes obnoxious sexual innuendos. On the way back, B realizes she doesn’t have her purse, but does so in a very uncertain manner. (“Um… where’s my purse? I think it’s gone maybe? Did we leave it in the house or is it in here perhaps…?”) Once we head back, we start drunkenly conversing about everything under the sun before calling a cab back to retrieve her purse.

The ride back seemed really fast. We head back into the house to find it’s EMPTY. Not a person in sight, just our drunk selves with a house full of valuables. B and I go and find her purse. She drunkenly stumbles over every possible object. I steal foundation, whitening strips, mascara and hand sanitizer from the bathroom because I was a drunk, angry tool and pissed about paying for the cab ride. We go back downstairs and steal all the alcohol we can, which is two beers and some 30% blue drink. We book it outside and head back to the taxi driver.

He drives us back. The rest of our night is pretty basic. We go give K a beer and wish him a happy birthday since it was technically his birthday (1 or 2 in the morning. I have no idea). We put our stolen goods away and L ends up throwing up in a plastic bag. I tried and failed to open the blue drink with my teeth. They were shocked that they were drunker than me for once. We smoked weed while B watched because that’s not her thing.

This all happened on a Thursday night while I had a 9 am english class the next day, which I attended. I literally thought I was dying on my way to class, but after I popped a few advils and took a nap my hangover was cured.

Thanks for reading!!

What Nicotine Withdrawal Feels Like

So you think you’re not addicted because you only smoke when you drink? Well you’re dead wrong. Unless you don’t drink often… Then it’s fine I guess. Get cancer on your own accord. 

It feels like something is slowly chewing my brain, bit by bit, from the inside. Something is off, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. The only thing I know is that with three or four puffs of one coffin nail, this shitty feeling might disappear. But you can’t feed the addiction, because that will only make it worse. So you try alternatives.

Exercising doesn’t fix the hole in your brain. Neither does a sauna. Not two extra strength Advils, or gallons of water. Green tea doesn’t do a thing. Video games just make it worse. Nothing will cure you except for a cigarette. You turn away when people look at you in the halls, answer text message in a lazy, apathetic manner, cut conversations short. And all with a constant frown on your face. A genuine smile feels impossible. You’re too sick to be friendly or happy. People are draining you. Life is draining you.

The feeling in your head occasionally pulses through your whole body which makes you feel woozy, ready to pass out. You want to hibernate until the pain goes away but you can’t. There’s too much stuff to be done. 

The feeling is in the back of your mind consistently no matter what you do. You can’t escape it. Even when things are good, they’re awful. God knows how long it will last, or how you can accelerate your healing process.

You can avoid all of this by NOT smoking.