When You're Depressed.

To stew or not to stew

The virtual is an high. Recently, i had an argument with my mum on whether it was wrong to put some weed in my stew. Asides from the hysterics and the preaching that came afterwards, one particular response was peculiar.

My canopy of ideas shook underneath a barrage of words. Points acquired from my daily cannabis research would not save me. She talked about how "Anything that alters our state of mind should not be messed with".

I felt it, but not quite.

The virtual is an high.
Ma, there's a disconnect i feel nowadays. It comes along with its curves in my hands while its haptic feedback tickles my fingertips. The millions and millions of 1's and 0's, (my indirect communication aids) and the pseudo-connections made with people i haven't actually met.

And sometimes i get sad i'm not living in the right space time. I'm here yet i'm still not here . Making terrible permutations with my mind and texting on "mind gas fees" thinking "one's gotta be worth my time".

Ma, You should know that this complicated gesture " Rushes me". Its also quite draining too. Also, if being hormonal is the trendy teenage anthem( my new discovery ). I'd like you to know the world makes these permutations too.

Its a party with concurrent rape anthems played. Its replete with shoddy businesses and crazy interpretations of the word "hustle". We are all fumbling affiliates, and as soon as the wacky Mc's done, i will walk home with hurt feet, heels still in hand, thinking how much better i would feel if i had some weed in my stew.