just me and my mouth

There are those things we convince ourselves are a mere reaction of our bodies to the acknowledgement of our conscious awareness. I will smoke this joint when I am sick or in pain because I have known it to relieve such nuisances before. On the other hand, I would have still smoked it, pain and sickness aside, so am I justifying the blazing or am I actually relieved of my pain? Regardless, it seems to be working and in this phenominally inspiring and particular instance, my body is in sync with my mind. I will call this "stoned", never much else to say in front of company and now I am cautious due to the fact that I am "stoned", "so fucking stoned, dude", and that I am not alone. The most critical details of my life are lost only because I have managed to visit my past enough to no longer know where the memories end and the dreams begin. I can't tell you this, you might think I'm crazy. Do you? I'm sure. "Stoned", thinking it all, allowing it to push through the mesh of overwhelming obscurity and finding my centre somewhere between the awareness and the awkwardness. Who displays that self that thrives just as much on the awkward, to revel in such human delicacies? Better yet, who admits to it? Now, have you noticed how much i mention myself? Sickening