Second Hand Stoner

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And I am……

Long story, maybe, my story, absolutely because it happened to me. Maybe I shouldn’t even be telling this story in case I get offended by the idea that I can’t formulate any ideas. Where is this story going, don’t know and I think I may not care.

It’s not a long story like I may have suggested, in fact it’s just a story. It takes place at a house, on a street in a neighbourhood in my city. It’s a nice house belonging to a friend of mine whom I decided to go visit. Not having much to do I made the call and walked over for coffee. My friend greeted me with a big hug and introduced me to another friend who also happen to be visiting. No challenges and with a great cup of coffee we got into small talk easily. While I sat and played with the dog they excused themselves and went into the kitchen, myself unaware of what could be taking place.

Now I’m not a prude and my story is not in judgement or anything close, my story is how I even made it home in the condition I was in. I didn’t know I could get high from just the smoke, feel this new found freedom from nowhere and it challenged me. It’s not that I have never been in a room where people lit up I think it’s because I had not prepared myself consciously by realizing I was getting stoned.

You know it’s quite funny because when I walked home I couldn’t figure out why the colours were brighter, my mood was lighter, and the rain tickled my face when I looked up at the sky. By the time I got through the door I think it dawned on me so I called my friend and asked her the question of, am I, could I be and then “boing” ok now what.

Well the now what was simple, I threw off my shoes hung up my coat and smiled at everything. I made the best supper ever because it just tasted so good, laughed at so many shows and then decided to tell you all about it.

Never thought about the idea of second hand smoke in this way. So here we are, there I am and I can now come out as a second hand stoner.

Peace out.

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