Like, I took a friend of mine to a party and everyone is getting wasted but him.
I was so embarrassed.
I think people with a straight-edge mentality are kind of annoying and extremely self-righteous. But people who have a genuine disinterest in any kind of mind-altering substance tend to be pretty chill. They can more or less turn up without having to turn up. You know?
For five days,
I’ve felt mummified and objectified,
to the airborn pathogens keeping me snotty-chested,
I’ve been both ethered and stricken weary by,
May’s yellow dust.
It’s been a must that I stay indoors, filled with both hatred and fear inside.
Should my bronchiole tubes become inflamed,
my legacy would end instantly, my life would never change.
There’d be no transition from unsure to sane,
as there’d be no oxygen pumping to my brain.
There’d be no little boy proud to further carry my name.
So I’ll stay sedentary, choking back this blue Nyquil.
Until I lean when I stand and limp, like I injured my right heel.
I’ll be cool with waiting a little longer,
to see this life heal.
And I’ll Scholl feel good when this is over;
I’ll have that right feel.
It feels good to be moving forward,
on this cramped and narrow path.
The fate of this world set, and my course
set against it.
It feels good to be moving toward a better place.
It’ll feel better when I’ve done my due.
But that time will come eventually.