Dear Marijuana

Written By, Kristen J

Dear Marijuana,

I know I’m a little late here. And as I continue these ongoing efforts of prying myself from your shackles, I know that I can say “goodbye” to the belief that you are the only one who can embrace and comfort me. I can do that for myself now; it’s taken years to realize that I am better off without you.

You fed me temporary highs built upon lies: “I’ll make you so much happier; I’ll make that meal taste better; I’ll help you sleep tonight; I’ll make this movie way funnier and that book more interesting; and I’ll make time in nature even sweeter and the stars so much brighter; and that class you hate more tolerable, and the pain less prevalent. And for sure, I’ll make you more interesting, and conversation easier, and the sex will be way better with me there. And connecting with your son, reading a bedtime story, will be so much more FUN with me around.”

So subtly and slowly, you put yourself between me and everything and everyone; you deceived me to believe that your presence was enhancing my life, when truly it was dulling and muffling it all.

“If you don’t keep me around,” you had said, “life will be so unbearably boring and prude.” You told me I needed you, or I wasn’t a real adult, because real adults make time for their own selfish pleasures. And I believed you when you dared to shout that my beautiful life is a prison without you. It was you who held me hostage! Truthfully, I never needed you for anything; you were just convenient, you were just there when I was seeking. You kept me warm on lonely nights, but always left me wanting more because you could never be what I sought. You’re transient, not transcendental.

It was all bullshit and I’m screaming at you to stop whispering to me that you can make things better. I hear you, but I know it’s false. You didn’t give me any of the things you said you were going to give me. You never kept your promises; I’ve never felt any more satisfied in life once your encapsulating numbness wore off. I gave you my time, attention, money, and praise. You robbed me blindly of authentic experiences, fullness, the completeness of living by leading me to believe that there was something wrong with me and you, and only YOU could fix it. You fcked me up. I ruined relationships over you. I wrecked multiple vehicles being distracted by you. You could have killed me, and I was prepared to defend your honor. You sneaky fcker. You see, you robbed me. You stole a part of me. You hypnotized me into a trance of thinking that you were the only way to contentment.

I will no longer run to you when I feel SOMEthing, anything. I will no longer make excuses to be with you all day and night. I will no longer choose you over OPENING UP, and sharing my truth, and forming relationships with people. I am strong enough to be alone without you. I will no longer fall for your lies, and I am keen on your traps. From now on, I will make steady strides to use my energy to serve the greatest good, rather than surrendering all of my strength over to you in despair. I will not use you as a means for socialization, as you “helped” me so many times to form fake-ass friendships upon the facade that you were the true path to connection.

Now I am connected, and you are nowhere around.

I am turning UP the dial on my life, no longer turning it down, and guess what? You have lost the privilege to f*ck with my gauges of perception. And I hear you now, telling me I’m crazy without you but this fire, this fuel is MINE. My sober existence does not have to be comfortable for other people: I will not numb myself or dull myself down to make the world more tolerable, or myself LESS anything. I’m done escaping.

Our time together is done.

Most Authentically,
Kristen J.

Published in – A New Leaf – December 2024

  • Loud Is Who I Really Am

    Written by, Martha S. The start of my sobriety from weed coincided with the end of my 24-year-marriage to the man who was originally my gay best friend. We had adventures. We survived 9/11, left the City to start a small farm in the mountains, adopted an infant from an African country (both of us…

    Loud Is Who I Really Am
  • My Beloved

    Written by, Jessyka C. Mary Jane, My beloved, my wife, my true love, I’m writing once again, To say I’m sorry but there’s nothing to discuss, I mean it this time, it’s over between us, you’ve got me feeling like trash, Now there’s no going back, I’m here wasting all of my cash, I can’t…

    My Beloved
  • Becoming

    Created by, Liz M. Published in A New Leaf – July 2026

    Becoming
  • There is Hope for the Doctor in Recovery

    Written by, Anonymous I’m a marijuana addict in recovery, and I am also a physician. I have struggled with my addiction in secrecy for my entire life, with not even my sister knowing the extent of my use. I lived a double life—one where I was a “goody-two-shoes” and “smarty pants” and the other where…

    There is Hope for the Doctor in Recovery
  • Dear Mary Jane,

    Written by, Don S. There was a time when I didn’t think I would ever be writing this. I pretended and wanted to tell myself that this day would never come. When we first got together and for the first couple of years of our relationship, this ending was not on my bingo card. I…

    Dear Mary Jane,
  • The Dream Slayer

    Written by, Bill H. Here is a word that silently destroys more dreams, more relationships, and more personal growth than anything else……that word is trying. Notice what happens in your body when you hear yourself or hear someone else say, I’ll try. There’s a softening, there’s a pulling back, an energetic step away from a…

    The Dream Slayer