Old friends... sat on a park bench like bookends.
I bitch about my stoner friends... I complain that they don't do anything, I complain that they've lost their way and become a slave to the buds... but it isn't ever out of hatred. I was close to them, we've been through lots of times together. Concern is a motivating factor in my angst toward them. Most of them are entirely unique and intelligent people, and they don't seem to be going anywhere. Which worries me... because I saw where my life was going once, and I bailed out. They seemed to have filled the hole with others and not given a second thought to my reasons for being absent. I do miss the group of people I'd sit with and be baked around, and laugh at everything with.... but I don't want to be stuck being comfortable with being stoned and sitting in the same room, night after night. The drama that naturally accompanies being in a small town can be awful also.
I've moved on in my life, had many experiences, revelations and understandings... and when I try to share them, I am often told to "chill out," or am answered with blank stares or entirely unrelated stoner humor. Part of the frustration comes from being unable to talk to any of them about anything anymore. We used to talk about everything, but I suppose projecting my own sensibilites and growth upon people who haven't yet hit the point of crawling from the nest, just isn't a good thing.
Here's hoping some of them read this.
~N
I've moved on in my life, had many experiences, revelations and understandings... and when I try to share them, I am often told to "chill out," or am answered with blank stares or entirely unrelated stoner humor. Part of the frustration comes from being unable to talk to any of them about anything anymore. We used to talk about everything, but I suppose projecting my own sensibilites and growth upon people who haven't yet hit the point of crawling from the nest, just isn't a good thing.
Here's hoping some of them read this.
~N