Puff if you like to just sit in your room, kick back in your favorite chair, and blaze by yourself, not having to worry about anybody or anything. Just yourself and your own thoughts...That High


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Puff if you like to just sit in your room, kick back in your favorite chair, and blaze by yourself, not having to worry about anybody or anything. Just yourself and your own thoughts...That High


anybody ever worry about when that first person puffs your story if readers will think it is you or not


just smoked by myself, puff if you enjoy to kick back and smoke a blunt by yourself sometimes


when you smoke by yourself, and sit on your bed, chair, couch, etc., and then you laugh out of nowhere, or talk to yourself. that high.


lol, that would be fucking crazy! Like dinosaur I think it sounds a bit unbelievable but I'm not going to accuse you of lying as it may very well be true. I was once staying a shelter that required us to wake up at about 7am and be out by 9. My dad had drove down one day to deliver me a backpack stuffed full of clothes and a couple government checks that had arrived at home for me totalling about $300. I used about half that money to buy a bit more than a half-ounce, I think 15 or 16 grams, can't remember exactly, and a nice little $15 bong. I was walking around that night with the backpack full of clothes and food as well as my regular backpack, which together was quite heavy, so I was pretty tired. That night I stayed out really late getting stoned and didn't want to sleep at the shelter because I'd only get a few hours of sleep before having to go the next morning so I ended up walking a couple kilometers to a motel that had a sign advertising $45 rooms. That was a lie though as the girl at the desk told me the cheapest room was $75. I had about $150 left on me and I wasn't about to half that for one good night's sleep but I was really sleepy so I looked around for somewhere close outside suitable to sleep. The only options were grass or pavement. I wanted somewhere I didn't think I'd be seen and considered inaccessible to most people. I chose a water tower that was nearby and climbed up the ladders and stairs to get to the top and slept there after blazing a few bowls. The top was flat and there was a metal railing so I wouldn't roll off in my sleep. That was a fun experience. The next morning I still woke up quite early and wasn't that rested so about half way down the tower I stopped for a rest. Unfortunately, as I read on the computer screen in the SUV cruiser later, someone had seen me sitting there. Once I got to the bottom of the tower there were two high chain link fences to climb over, with thick pillars in between. I started to climb over the first one and then dropped the last 4 feet or so, being lazy and thinking I could just land normally. I landed terribly though, only on my left foot and at an awkward angle. With that and the extra weight on my back, it hurt like hell. I limped over to a pillar and sat down against it and checked out my ankle. It was swollen huge. Turns out I had a "minimal fracture in my distal fibula". With nothing else to do, I blazed a few more bowls, put the bong and weed away, and sat there for a bit, hoping for the swelling and pain to subside a bit. When I felt ready to limp on my way I stood up and turned around, only to see a few cruisers on the other side of the next fence. I knew I couldn't get away so I just sat back down and started munching on trail mix. A couple cops who had cut the gate of exterior fence open (it was all barbed wire except one section, which I had climbed over to get in but that they didn't notice) walked over to me and said I was under arrest for trespassing. There were some no trespassing signs but I didn't expect to be seen. I gave them my backpacks and hobbled to the SUV cruiser. They asked why I was limping and I showed them my ankle and they said it looked painful, and they were also laughing about how high I looked and one of them said while laughing, "He's fried". I asked if I could have a smoke before getting in the cruiser (I don't smoke anymore but did then) and one of them said in a friendly sounding way, "When we let you go you can smoke all you want." That gave me a bit of hope that they might not take my weed. I got in the cruiser then leaned over to see around the front seat to where they were searching my backpacks on the back of a cop car. The pulled out the bong and put it there on the trunk. I was worried at this point. One of the cops came over and asked me if there was anything in the backpacks they should know about. I suddenly had hope again. "It looks like you guys already found my bong," I said to him. He went back and started talking to the other cops. There were five of them in total. After a brief discussion the one guy came back and opened the door for me. He gave me a $70 trespassing ticket and then said loudly to another cop, "We only found a bong." Then they left me there with my backpacks. I checked and my half-ounce was still there. I'm sure that they must have seen it. I had been worried they would confiscate it and my money on suspicion of dealing (which I hadn't been doing.. much of.. but it must have looked that way). They probably were nice guys though and felt sorry for me because they'd seen my egg of an ankle and knew I had a far walk back to the shelter, where I had told them I was staying. The fine sucked, and I had to spend another $15 to get a new bong, but I can't really complain. I limped along on my way straight to the convenience store and then got mega-stoned. Another time I got busted trespassing in a used car and auto parts yard because I was blazing in an old trailer but the owner of the yard saw and called the cops on me since people had been stealing parts from the yard lately and he thought that's why I was there. The cop showed up just as I was walking out of the trailer and arrested me. He was angry at first but I told him I wasn't stealing anything, that I'd just gotten off work at a restaurant right beside the car lot, which was true, and I was wearing a hat from the restaurant, which proved it. I only had about a gram and a half on me then and I admitted to it when he asked if I had anything. I had already had the pat-down and the cop was searching my backpack but couldn't find it. I showed him where I thought it was, in the cavas case with my bong, but it wasn't there. It turned out it was in my pocket but he had missed it and I had forgotten I put it there. He then asked me where I got my bike and if it was stolen. I told him the truth, that I'd gotten it from a friend for $5 and that he had found it stashed on the edge of a forest, so someone else had probably stolen it and left it there. Then he said I could just go. I was happy about that so I had a big grin on my face. He asked why I was smiling. He actually smiled back but then asked why I looked so happy. I said I was happy I got to keep my weed. He then said, seemingly angrily, "Honestly, I don't give a shit if you have a gram and a half of weed on you. Take your stolen bike and smoke your shit somewhere else." I did.


2 Days ago, I'm sitting in Lutgert College of Business on campus studying, posted up in a comfy chair near my classroom and close to the bathrooms. Ideal location really. I had just got done smoking a few bowls in my car, happy to be super high. I went to the vending machine around the corner from my spot and purchased some munchies and a drink and sat back down.
I was there for about 2 or 3 hours, and throughout the entire, I kept hearing an electric pencil sharpener go off, every 5 -10 minutes or so. It didn't bother me though, I just was just aware of it.
Without thinking anything of it, my high mind visually imagined an old professor with a white beard and white hair grading papers and/or writing his own with an old school pencil, and sharpening it every 2 paragraphs or so. I remember thinking to myself, "who still uses those?(old school pencils), must be because he's old." Mind you I've never actually seen this guy.

Well, today I went back to the same spot, my favorite spot. High as always. I do my normal routine of getting a snack at the vending machine. When my purchased is dispensed, a familiar sound accompanied the process; I didn't think much of still.

I sit down, open my notes, and hear that professor doing his thing once again, sharpening the shit out of this pencil. But, this time it sounded like he dropped the pencil sharpener, a new sound that I wasn't aware was happening all along.
Then it all dawns on me. There is no professor. There is no old school pencil. There is no electric pencil sharpener or papers to grade. There isn't even a logical space or room close enough to make any sense of this situation I cooked up in my mind. That sound of a surely tortured pencil that was sure to be sharpened to the ferrule, (the metal part), by this point, Does Not Exist. That sound all along was just the vending machine; the vending machine I frequently use, supplying other hungry and potentially high students too. That High.


Best stoner fantasy... A bowl of weed that NEVER stopped burning and everyday there is a different strain of weed in the bowl.. When your blazed you don't have to worry about spilling weed while trying to pack or anything. You just hit the fuck out of it until you get that high.


i like having a classy smoke, in a park on a sunnyday, not trying to hide from anybody or even get ridiculously high. you just sit with an old tobacco pipe, and puff gently thinking about how pretty this park is. sometimes with friends, and you talk about philosophy. i like classy things. That High


Being high by yourself is different than in a group of people, it's like your mind has more freedom because it doesn't have to think about and process the anyone else but yourself so can get that much deeper into your own thoughts. I'm by myself, and I'm That High.


Puff if you ever go look at yourself in the mirror after smoking a lot and you have a huge smile on your face and you just say to yourself I'm so high and your excited about it