I felt around in my lap for the cold metal stick that I always had on me. It was black and it had a light on it, three gold bars on the bottom that plug into its charger, and a detachable mouthpiece that I replaced when I finished one pod and started another. When I inhaled, life seemed to pause and be real once more. Or at least, that how the nicotine always impacted me. It brought me to awareness. And I’m talking real awareness, not the awareness I’m usually in – the one where my brain is going the speed of light and all I can think about are things that I’m pretty sure are all made up by my anxiety and aren’t actually real.
Still lost? You know how most people walk outside and smell the roses? Or like, hear the water, or the birds, or enjoy the sun? That’s never been me. I struggle constantly with being able to smell the roses. My Juul? That thing is practically my inhaler into real life. Into smelling the roses, appreciating the birds chirp – all the fucking fun stuff.
My boyfriend asked me once, “What’s in it for you? Why do you smoke that thing?”
What is in it for me, I also asked in that moment, mentally reaching to find an answer. Why have I done impossible stupid things all in the name of my Juul and my addiction to nicotine. I’m talking bad – having a panic attack crying because I dropped my Juul in a tight cranny behind a hot tub and couldn’t reach it, bad like I lost it at Veld Music Festival and bought a new one the next morning before Day 2. Bad like I lost it in a drunken haze while my boyfriend literally carried me up a hill while I sobbed and my first stop when my hungover self was able to drive the next day was to replace my Juul. Bad like I wouldn’t sleep if I couldn’t find it. bad like I went camping and misplaced it for an entire night and had to bring myself down from a panic attack before being able to rationally look for it and enjoy the rest of my trip. You get the point.
My answer was actually a lot simpler and a lot more fucking sensible than anything the Juul had ever brought me to do. “You know how I told you once I like sex because it mutes my thoughts and I’m actually just present for once? Well, it’s like that, I breathe it in and I’m actually just here.”
The answer I gave him haunts me now. Of course I was addicted to being able to be alive and present and able to smell the roses. Every human should be able to smell the roses to have a happy, fulfilling life.
I haven’t been able to find a replica of that feeling beyond, sex, sometimes alcohol, or good experiences with good people and interesting places. But that’s not real life! Real life doesn’t have good experiences every day, or fun things to do, or a happy go lucky activity or friend available at all times. Losing the Juul would have been like losing my ability to live everyday life without being in immense suffering and pain. And then, a couple months later, I found out that my Juul and I were going to have a harder time together, thanks to the government and the restrictions that had begun to be placed on nicotine percentages. Instead of 50% (equivalent of 50mg of nic) per Juul pod, it would be lowered to 15%!!! 15. For real???? That’s a leap and a half. And I’m a healthy addict, I considered my options: quit, try cigs, go lower ($23 for fucking 15%??????), etc. But that’s a story for another time.
Cheers bixes!
コメント