(via fuckyeahthenetherlands)

Of 4/20s, old habits, and whatnots.

I came across this photo and realized that in exactly four weeks from now, I’ll be arriving in Amsterdam (in one piece, hopefully). I’ll be arriving on April 20, and in Cannabis culture, we all know what 4/20 means.

Ironic, actually. To be on Amsterdam on the day which would probably be the sober-est 4/20 I’ll ever have since I started smoking herb. And I never thought that the decision to quit the addiction after how many years of continuous shredding and rolling would be that simple. 

I can’t remember the last time I smoked, to be honest. What I can though, was how I felt when I did. Honestly, it brought me closer to a lot of friends (who I am not really friends with anymore now), spoke to different made-up creatures, saw astronauts and T-rex’s, picked up musical waves I’ve never heard, and made up for lazy afternoons of pigging out while laughing.

It’s either my artistic juices are overflowing, or I am spacing out. Most of the time, it’s the latter. I’d turn into a pseudo-philosophical-yet-in-reality-airhead stoner. It was a life glued together by weed, smoke, and friendship. Or maybe the pretext of friendship. For almost two years, I lived in a room with three other guys and two other girls (only one of them I stayed friends with), all of whom smoked. We were high everyday, day in and day out. And it felt nice, hanging around with a regular group of people. It served as a validation from myself for all the struggles I was going through, personally/academically/spiritually/intellectually. It filled up all the things which I felt was a void.

I stopped the continuous everyday smoking just as when the relationships I had with the people I smoked with everyday fell apart. Then I completely stopped smoking when I had a difficult time scoring good bud. It cost me money, and I wasn’t happy at all. So I opted to stay sober instead. Then one day, I realized I don’t miss it anymore.

I don’t want this to sound like a Stoner Anonymous thing. I have nothing against smokers. But personally, that is a life I would never want to go back to. A situation I would never once again put myself into.

Today, I still surprise myself whenever I find rolled up weed on some of my bag pockets. Just last Christmas, I received a stash from an old friend who thought I still smoked. I gave it out to people who are still up for some “good vibrations”. 

Letting go always hurts me more than I’d like to admit, but it actually says a lot when you can enjoy things without needing to slow down your brain or numb your synapses. And with that, it was just so easy to wave goodbye to bad habits.

It is, however, in my bucket list to smoke weed in a place where it is legal. So yeah, after all the blabbering I just did, this entry is just a way of convincing myself that it wouldn’t hurt to try again. I’ll be in Amsterdam (not to mention with the most wonderful person), for chrissakes.

Old habits, yeah. They do die hard.

(via )