‘Way Too High’

‘Way Too High’

Her friend woke later in the morning, but compared to rising before the run, late is relative. When her friend stirred at the sweet scent of the smoke wafting through the small room, she, of course, scolded her for using that precious bud in a one-hitter and immediately retrieved the bong off the kitchen counter and filled it with ice. The friend loaded the bong for the both of them to enjoy, and with the sun clearing the horizon, they pulled and puffed and giggled and coughed until the friend remembered the warning and stated, “This stuff, if/when you get too high, will trap you there.” 

You always sleep in too late, way too late, so late that the sun can be viewed fully through the window before your eyes even get a glimpse of the dawn of day beaching on the horizon. People tell you all the time that the early bird gets the worm, but this morning, the early bird is getting the bud. Just wake up already. If this big airy puff doesn’t rile your nose and you continue to lie there, sleeping the day away, then everything you’ve worked for will be lost, turned to ash before you even have the chance to enjoy it yourself. Wake up! You know you would rather not expose the warning. You know you would rather not share the bad news, but you have a duty to at least tell your friend that there are risks; you know the potential. Tell her! Tell her what she needs to know before it’s too late.

I know that there’s no way that she would ever believe a single thing that comes out of my mouth after that fight that separated us five years ago, but I will try my best to give her the heads up about this particular strain. Maybe she will believe me. The reality is that she will hear me but not listen to the words coming out of my mouth. If I tell her a lie, perhaps she will know I am lying, and then, she will be able to catch me in that lie, and then the trust will arise and then, when I warn her about the unsavory side effects of getting a bit too high, I will have gained her trust. Honestly, maybe I just don’t care about the way she will ultimately react or not react. Of course, I want to know what she thinks or believes, but whether or not the truth will be among the things she says, there is no way for me to know. All I can do is show up like a good friend, and we will be what we will be. The option to bail remains, but what kind of so-called friend would do that?

 


 

Perspective Exercise via my Writing Practitioners writer’s Meetup, Thursday, 18 October 2018.