The spirits inside his brain started to erupt. He didn’t know what he was doing. He ripped off his shirt and started behaving like a maverick. He started coughing and the traces of spit coming out of his mouth were red in colour. It was blood. He rolled up another round of weed and started puffing.
Tuffy had no idea what he was doing. Earlier he said weed reduced the anger within him. Then weed just became a reason for him to infuriate. He became angry over trivial issues and used to run away during office hours to roll up and smoke.
He was thrown away from his job because of the infinite number of breaks he used to take and for influencing others to take up weed.
Tuffy loved writing.
Writing was an in-born talent he possessed. He wildly proclaims that he wrote 4 books under the influence of weed, published them and made profits. Tuffy used to smoke up an entire stick rolled up with weed, pull out a note-book and pen and stroll down the roads looking for stories. He made sure that psychedelic tracks were playing in his ears continuously. He used to feel sky high. He read people on such walks. He sat on the footpaths and wrote about them. Sometimes just looking up into the sky and reading the faces formed by the clouds and drawing characters from them.
Tuffy found joy in taking a stroll when the sun was right above his head. He used to find such a place where the sun pierced its heat onto him.
Tuffy was weird in many ways. He lectured how cigarette smoking was bad for health and how alcohol consumption can ruin one’s liver but he practiced weed smoking. Although he never preached about it. Earlier when he used to work, he smoked up in front of his colleagues but never offered them a puff. He was spoilt in a way but never tried spoiling anyone else. He was particularly agitated when the manager pointed out that one of the reasons for his expulsion from the company was because he influenced others to take up weed smoking.
The manager then went onto become a prominent villain in one of his books. Many of his close friends forced him to give up the weed but to no avail.
One of his books got critically acclaimed.
He got a call from one of his favourite authors. Tuffy was called over to the 98 year old author’s place. He met the great author and both spoke in depth about their common passion. Writing.
Tuffy realized that if he kept smoking like this, he would die before he is half the age of that great author. He had a conviction. He quit smoking in a week’s time.
He went onto write 8 books. Sober. All of them were critically acclaimed.
He still goes out and sits in the scorching heat but his thoughts are smoke-free.
At the end of the day it’s just a stick you have lighted up and inhaling its remains. You are reducing the life of the stick, the stick, in turn, is reducing your life.
Nicotine or Weed. Quit Smoking.
Say Hello to Life.