April 19, 2018:

Sluggish, unwilling to move. Dizzy, lightheaded. Inward, silent, not present. Entirely uninterested in entertaining my friend who gets bored and leaves.

I was always bovine on weed. That much hasn't changed.

It feels exactly as it does if I've been awake two or three days. Shapes anthropomorphize, it can be fun to watch them dance and transform. Moving my head is vaguely painful, not from pain but from a strange lurching lapse of consciousness lasting two or three nanoseconds, a mini microburst of sleep. Ever and always the need and desire for proper dreams, snug under thick warm comforter, fully unconscious.

No particular endorphin, no specific satisfaction, no particular desire to do it again soon. Simple immobility, inward, bovine.