I inhale the smoke calmly. The glass pipe calls my name. My throat burns, but the sensation dies away. I flick the lighter and muse in its flame. The herbs crumble in fire, giving me joy. The air gets foggy from the burning herbs and my eyelids grow heavy. My vision can't catch up with the quick movement of my darting eyes. Tears are replaced by laughter. Anger turns to happiness. I am happy for a while, but when I wake up, my problems return. That's why I'll spend penny after penny, dollar after dollar, to buy happiness. If that's the only way I can be happy, so be it. It keeps me alive.
