Stoned Social Situations and Duel Massages

I’m in Australia. My brother gave me a notebook to write in so I’ve been writing in there more often than not, so allow me to talk about something that has been particularly bothering me. It is only one thing, but it is a pretty large issue. When I get stoned I talk even less than I already do. When the majority of the people I know get stoned, they talk even more than usual. I’ve already gotten stoned with people on this trip three times and three times my body has started shaking uncontrollably from being wildly uncomfortable. Often times a conversation is proposed and I listen for while occasionally even having something to say, but usually just saying nothing for up to an hour. Other people just have so much nonsense they want to talk about so I just listen and watch them spew their personalities all over the walls. My only contribution to the wall is my hypothetical and imaginary blood that sprays out of one’s head, post-point blank shot. My willingness to truly express myself and unload whatever is in my head, even if for the simple sake of conversation is seldom and relies entirely on the people involved and how stoned I may or may not be. I’ll give you a few examples of negatives and positives since I’ve been here. The negatives are both when I was stoned, yet interestingly not really relevant (the being stoned part: the story itself is wholly relevant). The first was with this faux-hippie dude named Weston and a faux-thug white dude from the illusory hood named Cillian. The notable conversations here are twofold: First was on our way home from picking up the Buddha cheddar. Cillian brought up that he would rather live in a dictatorship because he is jealous of people in the army, but wouldn’t join willingly. He thinks of it in the sense that he would be more open to trying really hard if it weren’t an option and he was forced. I just laughed at the kid this whole time, because it was some of the stupidest psychobabble I’ve ever heard. You wouldn’t want to be in the army if you were forced and you’d no longer be jealous of those who are, because everyone would be. Weston was agreeing with me the whole time, which was healthy. The kid is a dumbass; let’s move on. The next time was just me and Weston getting stoned, this was two nights ago. In the past the two of us had talked about music and I’ve told him that I don’t really like dubstep, so for whatever reason he started playing deadmou5 and bassnectar. The deadmou5 song wasn’t really dubsteppy, so I was fine with it, it was more minimal, funky electronic music. But then he put on this bassnectar song and started getting so fucking excited about the song and that he is going to see bassnectar in a couple months and he kept looking at me with the eyes of, oh you agree with me so I’ll keep getting excited, so I shut that shit down. After me not really saying anything for a really long time, maybe around half an hour, I said dude, this is just where the two of us disagree. I really don’t like dubstep. I’m sorry. I can’t stand the noise. This is the kind of music I was trying to explain to you earlier. I just really don’t like it. I could’ve been more honest. I could’ve looked the dude dead in the eyes and said, please for the love of all of us with ears, stop playing that dreadful “music,” I hate it more than I dislike country music. He said he appreciated my honesty, but he might just be full of it. We agree on a lot of other things, but I don’t really even like people who like dubstep. There is something fundamentally wrong with it. Now, the positive experience. This is fucking strange. But. Let me just tell you. I’d known all of these people for about two weeks when this happened. Last Sunday I was invited over to dinner at one of the girls’ apartments for tacos. I helped cook and set the table and provided commentary to get them laughing and we ate and we prayed (yeah) and we watched Friends and we laughed and we talked and we laughed and they got silly and then everyone left and it was just me and these two girls. They invited me into their room so that I could say thanks, goodnight, and goodbye. Eventually I ended up sitting down on the bed facing the middle of the room and the other girl’s bed writing her part of a paper about pro-choice. These two girls, who are best friends, were laying on top of each other at this point. Not making out or anything dream-scenario like that, just giggling and being silly. I finished the paper, the light turned off and I was offered to lay in the middle of the two of them on the now singular bed that they pushed them together for the sake of convenience. I joined, naturally, and before I knew it the two of them were lying on their stomachs and I was giving them a simultaneous back rub and speaking honestly to them about who I am, what I’ve done, what I really think of other people on the program, and so on, without any restraint. I just felt comfortable with these girls. The situation likely stimulated that, but I was comfortable nonetheless. The funniest and strangest part about this whole thing is that I barely saw them this whole week and I don’t think I talked to one of them at all, even after seeing and making eye contact with them. I mean, I told them that it would be best if we kept what happened to ourselves, not that we fucked or anything, but I don’t need to hear about this from any of these dudes and be mocked or generally made fun of so I figured discretion is best. That said, I did agree to go out with them this weekend, which I’m a bit concerned about, but for all I know, we’ll all get back to their room and be a little drunk and fool around a bit. Or they’ll hook up with other people, I’ll be the sober dude around, and I will have officially been friend-zoned. Let me bring this back to where I started. Social situations stress me out a lot, often to the point of complete silence. I just realized that dictatorship story doesn’t really have anything to do with anything, but its there, so enjoy I suppose. I’m genuinely curious of what these people think of me, if any of them like me, and what girls, if any, are even remotely attracted to me. I always assume none, because that usually seems to hold the most truth. I should just go out and get drunk and see what happens, as much as I really don’t want to do that. Aside from all of the shit I just said, being here is allowing me to experience peace and chaos at the same time. I live my day in something of a dichotomy of the mind. Simultaneously half-full and half-empty. I’m free. See you on the other side. Peace. Love. Enjoy. End.