Your energy introduces you before you even speak.
That it does. So I puff on the herb from chronic gardens of different kinds of bush that burns great.
Oregon gets to be the place God shows what HE promised.
The Coast Guard stationed me in Seattle. God has been trying to get me around here it seems.
Funny clue is the fact weed became legal the month after I moved into my first spot here in Oregon.
Funny to me cuz I can’t help but feel the stoner nature a gift from God… and not everyone has been so accepting. California hasn’t legalized it so smoking in Cali was nothing compared to being able to walk in a shop that smells like heavenly sweets from planting seeds in the ground…
I don’t know I just really appreciate it… and God knew that.
That’s the God I know.
Good to me always. Never giving me a reason to curse HIS NAME… instead God was my friend always.
As a child he painted pictures. At night once I remember waking up and needing to go pee… but I saw three lions sleeping before me… and I didn’t need to wake them up. What a crazy thing to remember as a kid for me.
Being a kid was something I looked forward to growing out of.
So much so that I can’t remember many details as a kid. I remember the lions. I remember my dad making fun of stuff and kind of being a mean guy when mean… He was fun a lot too… easier to avoid. Never around really til nighttime. I didn’t really ever mind either. Like I wasn’t a daddy’s girl that’s for sure. But I have a joyfulness that comes from learning to love him. Like I’m okay with the fact I need to be an adult woman to make sense of the dynamic. Kids love their parents. That is fact. Girls and fathers and boys and mothers. Shit kinda can get fucked up. Shit always does. No-one is perfect. Who wants to be? Like what would that require? That my story should be something within the lines…
Luckily I have this nervous problem. Not a problem actually. I realize it is just energy. It always was. So much at first maybe. Or maybe it’s the same amount of energy from the start… my body just stretched out. I remember looking into my dresser mirror a lot. Staring at myself. Making faces. Practicing how to smile. Watching my teeth change. Talking positive stuff. Like I didn’t mind looking in the mirror. I remember sitting on the toilet in the boys bathroom as a little me and looking over at the mirror knowing one day I’ll be tall enough to see myself. I always was ready to be the big version I thought. Who knows. Here I am.
The dog days are over.