Ralph Steadman style illustration, a man with words just falling out of his mouth --ar 16:9 --q 2 --v 5 --s 250

When your word is not enough

Today I was again left at home by myself with weed, and again I failed to have an ounce of self-control. This weed was hidden somewhere in my room by my wife and the second she left the house I went sniffing (literally).

There was a moment where I stopped for a second with the joint in my hand, had a little quiet chat to myself about self-control and it meant fucking nothing. It’s as if there is another side of my which says something like “Who gives a fuck, it’s just another joint. Stopping won’t change anything. You might as well get rid of this stuff”.

It’s like all the stuff I say in this site so far is just all bullshit. I can say whatever I want to make myself feel like I’m going to act a different way but when it comes down it, I fold like a pack of cards.

I still believe that if I know for a fact there is no weed in the house, I’m going to be able to at least not get my hands on anymore. So… with that said, time to smoke it all away tonight.