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Snow on the Green Mile (Rated R)
I just started this like three minutes ago. I plan for it to be a story on my experiences since I started smoking pot and about how the introduction of cocaine into an hearb prevalent environment is destroying my friends and the things we all loved.
Snow on the Green Mile
“They call it the War on Drugs yet it is the lowly few that bare the brute force of the laws long arm. For war can not be declared against a chemical substance. This is not a war against drugs- it is a war against the people and it has made monsters of us all.” ~ Unknown.
The door to the bathroom opened and smoke billowed forth from the confines of the tiled box. It smashed into the smoke detector like a ton of brick and the siren screeched sounding our demise. Teenagers poured out of the little room, trying to escape the commotion that they were should would get us sent to jail, and I found myself alone, scarred, and uncertain. I jump and swatted at the screaming breast as the energy was slowly ripped from my body. With each leap I was sure it would be my last and yet a primal desire for self-preservation fueled my flurried attacks. Finally I gripped the plastic disc and ripped it from the ceiling.
Silence… stillness… peace… where was I and by what means had I come to this. My heart was pounding and I was terrified but all I could think about was the bed across the room. I tried in vain to walk but my legs were numbed jelly and my head swimming with thoughtlessness. What time is it, why am I in Philly, and where the hell did everyone go? I took a moment to try to regain composure but my body wouldn’t stop moving. I reveled in the feeling of sheer contentment and felt my body groove and sway to the music in my head.
“Time to move.” I said aloud as I starred at my legs, beckoning them to walk.
I had no problem getting out of the bathroom but I was somewhere different now. This was not where I had been nor where I had come from and for a moment I wondered if I had left the bathroom into somewhere else. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot; the process of walking seems so simple until you’re fucked up out of your mind. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot- that’s how it should’ve gone. I began to step until something went horribly wrong and before I knew it I was on the floor.
I laughed at my own stupidity. What was this? Happiness? Glee? These feelings were foreign to me. My life was filled with misery and woe, an existence that defined itself through the pain of itself and others, yet I was on my back in pain and I was happier than I had ever been. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to kill anyone. For once I was me and they were them and nothing but the now mattered. At long last I had found peace… they called it marijuana.
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