Reality Check

When I set out yesterday to go purchase some marijuana, I didn't expect to get one of the most in depth reality checks ever. From a very unlikely person, too. My weedman, in all of his drunken glory, reflected on himself. In turn, I also reflected upon myself and my life.

He was extremely drunk by the time I met up with him, and I didn't plan to actually have a real conversation. In fact, the plan was for me to purchase my weed and just go home and chill. Chilling is something I've resorted to doing more often, my laziness is at an all time high. Just read this. It may be a reality check for all of us.

I met up with him around 11:39 pm last night, attempting to purchase marijuana to remedy my own depression. I immediately sensed he was drunk, and being bored, I agreed to give him several rides around the area. We eventually got to his residence, where he began to talk. He was talking throughout the ride, but nothing noteworthy.

"I don't understand why the fuck I'm here right now bruh...I have all of this fucking talent and I'm right here. I'm here, fucking stuck. That bothers me."

It shocked me that he said that. It shocked me because earlier yesterday, when I shut out the entire world for a day and a half, I thought the same thing. I myself have various talents, yet still find myself in the situation that I'm in.

"You think I want to trap? I have to look out my window every 3 minutes, I tweak when someone knocks on the door and I'm always waking up with the thought that I could possibly get knocked."

I just looked at him. I couldn't say anything. Here i have, a drunken drug dealer, confiding in me that he hates his job and actually wants to do something with his life, but he can't.

"The hardest thing in the world is listening to yourself. It's hard because it's you, you can do whatever you feel like. You can say that you'll only spend $20 dollars today, but if you spend $40, that's fine because it's you. Me and you bruh, we make money. A good amount of money. Guess what else?"

His eyes were half-closed by now.

"Waddup fam?" I asked. I wanted to know what he was thinking. 

"We don't have shit to show for it. I look exactly the same since I met you 5 months ago, and you look the same too. I'm not trying to be disrespectful or rude, but we obviously can't listen to ourselves."

Bingo. A drunken drug dealer just gave me the answer. Because I'm aware of how much money I can potentially generate, I'm lenient on how I spend it, when I should be saving it. I can make 50 dollars, and spend 80. It isn't logical.

I do not listen to Timothy Stevenson, Jr. 

When will I start is the question...