Jan 17, 2020
Where is this gate of which they speak?
The one that you carelessly meander through that leads you into a string of bad decisions, ultimately overtaking your better sense of sound judgement where you surrender to any resistance against an ugly dependency on cocaine and heroin. Suuuuure, it starts out harmless, just a couple puffs on a joint because you caved to the peer pressure of your cool buddies, or older brother and his friends. Next thing you know you’re selling your dick on the streets, frothing at the mouth, comfortable with needles.
You see, what I envision when I think of going through the cannabis gate is entering onto a wide-open road with no barriers on either side. There’s a warm, inviting breeze flowing over a majestic mountain range colored with vibrant, beautifully lit growth in a lush habitat that is inviting and blissful.
Well, maybe that’s DMT, but you get the point.
There is no pressure to stay there if it’s not what you’re vibing on, but nonetheless, you are quite welcome to imbibe in all the ripe fruits and flowers. Everyone is welcome. It is a place of absolute tolerance and acceptance. Yes, some of the people appear a pinch dumb, but what the fuck? It’s way better than uptight, right?
The point is this. If someone has a propensity to seek out the highest peak they can reach only to jump directly off the cliff to the bottom of Mariana’s Trench, all in the course of a twenty-four-hour period, then there’s probably something called “bad parenting” that had a part in their craving to escape something scratching at the inside of their psyche. Otherwise, Cannabis is not a gateway to anything other than a potential Rick and Morty marathon.
And a gateway through the golden arches of Macdonald’s and the podium from where you proudly ring the Taco Bell.