The abdication of something. I’m not succeeding. I’m not happy with being sober. I just want to light a bowl, right now. Get high so badly. Something in it makes sense. I got to get back to what it takes to lull. There is not a lot to do. The mind makes its own sentences; they don’t always make sense. My sickness is fine with me being where I am right now. I don’t like where I am. Maybe that is a good sign. Being uncomfortable. I don’t know. I just don’t want to be in my mind any longer without the help of something. The reason I like weed so much is that it reminds me of how profoundly interesting the mundane aspects of life can be. It makes me want. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to be back home. I want to do substances with my friends. I don’t want this. I cannot be comfortable in my skin. It would seem. I cannot stand this.