Stoner

"God bless you pot," I think to myself. I'm cutting up pizza-chicken bacon ranch if you're curious. I know it's going to be a delicious pizza. The green stuff makes that happen and I love it. I feel good about being stoned because I finally feel good.

"Your therapist doesn't think you should smoke." The voice in my head is such a killjoy. My therapist doesn't want me smoke. She's not "opposed to it" but she also talked about statistics she felt strongly about that seemed...unimportant to me. I feel guilty though. Like I've been lying to her and she's gonna find out and I'm going to get in so much trouble. The guilt sits there and grows every time I take a toke.

"Ok. She might not think it's working, but she's not you and you are the only one that knows if something is working or not. Besides, people have been smoking marijuana a lot longer than they've been swallowing pharmaceuticals. Also? You can just not tell her. People have been doing that a long time too."

I have this brief conversation with myself as I finish cutting the pizza into 8 even triangles. I've rationalized a behavior by convincing myself it doesn't matter what I do, as long as it's what I want. There's a part of me that knows that's exactly what I should be doing but another part, a louder part thinks that's awfully selfish. So I ignore it.