Marijuana and the 7 Secrets HTML version
15 Years ago….
I slowly became aware of myself, but did not open my eyes.
My head lay deep in my dirty pillow, which was soaking with the
saliva that had drained out of my mouth. The furry brown carpet
on my tongue made me gag as I closed my mouth.
It was time to get up. Not for anything in particular, least not for
anything cared about. The cat wanted feeding, but it could wait. It
knew better than to swim between my legs in the morning.
If ever I had a short temper, it was when I was trying to get up and
get going, that was when I was at my worst…, trying to ignore my
floating , dream-like state, but it was difficult…, like trying to
watch a movie that I just wasn’t interested in…, trying to
reconnect somewhere, with this thing I called ‘my life’.
Every morning was now the same. In fact every day was now the
same. I'd wake up at some point, usually about 10 or 10.30. I’d lie
there, bursting for a pee, or if I had the strength, I’d sit up and use
Francis Taylor