Cannabis Has Never Respected My Emotional Boundaries, and Honestly, Thank God
Dispatches from the soft underbelly of being high. I cry more often than I’d like to admit when I’m stoned, which is inconvenient because I’m stoned more often than I’d like to admit. There’s no heaving, bumbling, or swelling movie score. It’s quieter than that. A small internal weather event. The air shifts. Gravity turns… Keep Reading