Breath by Jon Gile
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Breath by Jon Gile

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personal.
hi. i know, itās been a while. so long, in fact, that iām not sure any of you are out there anymore, reading from me. but thatās okay. i still love you guys. so i forgot my journal at home today, but i have been wanting to write about something iāve been struggling with for a few years. i think this will help me feel better⦠whether you agree with me or not, youāre with me or not, you know me or not. i need to get this weight off of my shoulders. out of my brain. i might keep editing this post because i keep thinking of different things and wanting to add them and iām also kind of sorry about that. i deeply want to quit smoking weed. iāve used it for about three years now; two and a half have been essentially every day use. i picked it up from my ex-boyfriend (along with cigarettes, which i managed to quit a year and a half ago)⦠i used to hate the idea of weed. before i started using it, i thought people who smoked were hiding. i didnāt understand its attraction. i was one of those proud kids who would be absolutely, positively drug and alcohol free. i didnāt try any drugs or drink until after high school. it wasnāt for me. cue the ex-boyfriend(s). i dated a guy when i was in the blue knights, and he was the resident stoner. figures, right? whenever i caught him high, i would get very upset. wonder why he was doing this to spite me, because he knew i didnāt like it at all. he would apologize, fading away. of course i knew he didnāt mean any of it, and he didnāt do it to harm me. he did it to please himself. eventually we broke up because of distance and a few other factors, and i invited another guy into my life. this new (old) one was somebody i had dated before in high school, and we were close enough geographically for me to start visiting him at his dorm in college. it quickly transformed into a relationship again (he had provided vital support for me during my break-up, and he was a long-time friend). this was the most toxic relationship i could have chosen, for many reasons. but let me get back to the weed. after high school, this boyfriend got into smoking weed. i wasnāt particularly happy about it, but at the time, i wasĀ convinced that he was my soul mate and all the lovely dreamy things you think of when you are a child and find your first love. i struggled with him for a while. he lived in his dirty dorm room with his makeshift plastic-bottle-bongs and his skunky jackets and he never went to class. i knew he was capable of so much, and yet he chose to waste his opportunities away smoking with his druggy friends. eventually i was curious. what was so compelling about this smelly plant? why had he become essentially addicted/dependent on a high? it was beyond my comprehension, and i wished desperately to connect with the boy. in april of 2011 i tried weed for the first time. we drove with one of his friends to an empty park and smoked out of a bubbler. i remember hitting it three times and waiting. it kicked in once we started driving back to the dorms from the park. i was amazed. i felt so many things that i never had. my legs felt dead, my head was spinning, things were moving so much slower. i was terrified and thrilled all at the same time. once we were back on solid ground, we wandered over to a little quad area outside the dorms and hung out. my boyfriend bummed a cigarette from someone (as far as i had known, we were smoke free), and this didnāt bother me. i was too busy thinking a million miles an hour and expanding my brain and it felt like the desert heat when i had my eyes closed. it was almost like hallucinating. the high lasted four hours. we wandered around campus for a while, hanging out with his stoner friends and watched a movie. things were funnier, more interesting. i tasted a peanut butter granola bar and it was incredible how different it was. i felt good. i feltĀ great. fantastic, even. this was the first time I ever thought god could exist. after it faded away and i felt somewhat normal, i told myself that it was cool but i didnāt know that i wanted it again. that started a cycle of smoking. i honestly canāt remember every single time i tried it again, but that first time was the most vibrant and powerful. i smoked weed with him and his friends quite a bit, usually limiting myself to one or two puffs, because i knew it would blow my mind to outer space. there was a night we stayed at his dadās house while he was gone, and i tried a cigarette for the first time. it was different, it was menthol. i honestly really kind of liked it, even though i had sworn to myself up and down iād never smoke like my parents always had. the next morning i asked for another. i remember him saying, ābe careful, you might get addicted.ā and i did. time wore on and i continued smoking weed more and more, moved back in with my mom, and began buying myself packs of cigarettes. i felt so ashamed when i announced to my mother that i was now a smoker. she was not openly disappointed, but i was angry with myself. i hid the weed use from her. it felt dirty, shameful. but when i was high, i felt good. i felt terrified that someone would have a tragic accident when i was alone and high, and i wouldnāt be able to get to them. it made me anxious, it made me feel good, it took the pain away, it made me accept the things that frustrated me, and best of all, it fixed my chronic insomnia.Ā this is getting long-winded and iām sorry. we began having relationship problems, the boy and i, and on a ābreakā we took, he ended up sleeping with another girl in our hometown. i didnāt find out until a friend of mine told me two weeks after. by then, we had had sex again and i felt disgusting. ruined, tainted, by this scummy girl he slept with. i was crushed and yet it totally lined up with everything i thought of him. he felt awful and told me he wanted to kill himself. after a few weeks of torment, for whatever stupid reason, i let him back into my life.Ā in december of 2011 i moved to denver with this boy and a few people i didnāt really know but could deal with. this was when i began smoking everyday. all day, on my days off⦠i could hide it from work, thankfully, and i was never the type of person to get high and go to work. i didnāt have the confidence my roommates had to hide it from their managers. i didnāt want to take the risk. i smoked so much weed with them. and in a way, i am glad i moved in with them.
in february, the only other girl with us, triggered a fight between her and my boyfriend about my relationship with him. i owe her so much. she gave me the strength to break up with him. i needed desperately to end the unhealthy relationship. i had kept running in circles about how i felt about him, and how he treated me, the cheating, the fact that i felt worse and worse every time he tried to be intimate with me. i felt so gross about him and i was stuck in a lease with him until the end of july. thankfully the girl helped me through it all and we became very good friends. looking back on it, she was exactly what i needed at exactly the right time. i had a good time with my four roommates. we hung out, talked. we didnāt have cable tv, so we spent our time enjoying each other, going for long drives, talking in the mornings on our porch. we smoked too much weed, we tripped acid a few times, loved each other pretty much unconditionally, and respected our hearts and brains. it was a good seven months, albeit a little strange and different. but i have good memories of it, and i wouldnāt change it. in may, i went home to celebrate my momās new marriage. it was right around my birthday, and my brother flew out with his girlfriend and their new baby to visit. they live in seattle, and he saw that i was struggling and invited me to come live with them. so i took a week or two and decided that was just what i was going to do. at the end of july, 2012, i packed my things and set some aside for storage. i said goodbye to my roommates and colorado and my family. i flew to seattle with just two duffel bags full of clothes. i settled in fine, i suppose. i had taken a month off of smoking weed in between moves to try to better my chances of getting a job and passing any drug tests. i got a job and started smoking again, this time with my brother and his friend. meanwhile, kyle, his friend, and i began to harbor feelings for each other. we went on our first date in october, and weāve been close ever since. my relationship with my brother fell through for various reasons, and i ended up moving in with kyle. i have been smoking weed every day, on a schedule since i started again. it has been troubling, for me. iāve had some struggles with memory and a lot of anxiety in everyday life. but when i visit home, i donāt feel anything about it. i donāt smoke when i am on vacation in colorado. i feel fine. i canāt sleep worth a damn, but i feel fine without the weed. once i get back home, here, it feels like an expectation. like iĀ need to smoke a bowl, to hit the pipe. like i canāt possibly fall asleep without it. iāve wanted to quit since the beginning of the year. my last vacation, which was around christmas, made me feel even better about my resolve. but obviously, since then, i have smoked pretty consistently. iāve struggled since the beginning of the year to reckon with myself. is this what i want? am i my best person when iām high? donāt i want to get on with life and do things? is weed limiting me? does weed make me anxious? does any of this actually matter? i feel weird about smoking now. i think about it all day, and look forward to it so much that it tends to consume my mind, especially the later in the day it is. i almost instantly regret it every time i do it. i feel like iām burying my feelings and thoughts, and wasting my memory and heart. it makes me scared to drive, to do new things. i even question actions that used to feel regular, like deciding what i want for dinner, or turning on a video game. i feel like i could be better about it. and while i understand that at least iām not dependent on cocaine or heroin or the other big drugs, i used to live free of stimulants, happy as a clam, and not afraid of my own fucking shadow. i feel like i could have a much better life without weed. like i could do the things i dream of without fear. like i could have a better, healthier relationship with kyle (who seriously is so good to and for me, i canāt even explain how lucky i am). i could start doing the things i used to love, but that weed made impossible to focus on⦠like writing, reading, playing my trumpet, drawing. i could be more in touch with my family. i could save $40 a week. maybe itās all in my headā¦. scratch that; i know itās all in my head. i could do all those things and still have weed. but it doesnāt work that way for me. and thatās okay. i will be okay. we are out of weed right now. i will try my hardest to be content with the moment and not constantly wish i had a bowl to take my mind off of things. i will not replace weed with alcohol. i will do better for myself, and better for kyle.Ā iām gonna get better. i know it. and iām sorry this turned into an enormous 2000+ word fiasco and if you are still with me, i am impressed. my brain is complex and scary and kind of hard to follow these days, for obvious reasons. but i will be better. breathe.
(by Danny Seidman)
Dolomites, Italy | Marvin Walter
To Infinity and Beyond by: Stergos Skulukas

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Edited by: me
Photo by: Rosie Hardy
UntitledĀ byĀ sedr.Ā (2010)