Free Essay About Smoking Marijuana

I had always rejected the conservative tag my friends labeled against me. While being labeled conservative was bad for me from the outside, I must confess that from the inside, it was the best decision ever. It kept your conscious intact and you felt accomplished having proceeded with a measured level of reservations. However, on my twentieth birthday, the pressure had reached a crescendo. I wanted the tag no more and I was prepared to do what it takes to (dis)tag myself. The same meant I easily had to fit in the group of the spoilt girls. They were the self-styled bad girls of the hood.
On that particular day, I was woken up by the loud singing of my younger brother. He had trained as hard just to be able to sing me happy birthday that early morning. I felt good and appreciated. This was my little brother, barely twelve, and he had mustered the courage to learn the song and sang it happily to me. The other twist to brother’s small gesture was the level of determination that had characterized the greater family. Was I the only exception? Was my courage and determination being put to test? How come I could not bring myself to untangle myself from the haunting demands of liberalism.
I hugged my brother tightly, feigning a smile. Deep inside me, I was locked in deep thought, thinking out solutions. I knew the day would be interesting. Not everyone had the fortune of turning twenty in the beginning of the year (read February). I would enjoy this day. After I had thanked my brother and ensured that he too felt appreciated, I dashed to the bathroom and gave my body a decent bath. I was feeling greater now. I wanted to own the entire world. Everyone often has this feeling of ownership. I venture to say the difference usually lies in the manner in which it manifests. My day had arrived and I would waste no minute.
I went through the motions of breakfast quite typically. The nauseating routine of warming my tea and sipping through the mug mum had custom made for my twentieth birthday. It had the wonderful photograph of my childhood days inscribed on its outer surface. In addition, mum had made my favorite pancakes to add to the occasion. Dad too was not left out. He had deliberately altered his schedule to enjoy breakfast with his daughter. I was feeling thrilled by the attention. As if that was not enough, as we served the meal, dad would announce to the three of us that he had succeeded in having me registered for advanced classes at a local college school. All of us pretty well knew what that meant. I would be driving myself to school. At last, my conservative dad had let go and afforded me a car. I would be having my car. I felt like I was already in the interstate highway skidding away to the movies. Life could not have been any better.
Regrettably, all my family’s attempts to impress me did not necessarily satisfy the urge. I could clearly see that today was merely an exception. Soon, everything would revert to the status quo and I would be looked back in my conservative self. I wanted a way out. Who would bail me out? Who would help me convince myself that I could do it? I could not count on my brother. Not only was he younger, he had also drunk from the cup of conservatism. For him, he seemed to have been comfortable. I attributed my discomfort to two things which my brother never experienced. First, my avid reading culture had led me into deep liberal readings where I was led to entertain liberal reasoning and behavior. Secondly, my friends had consistently tagged me conservative. I could not blame them. I had earlier on enjoyed the tag and was more comfortable than my little brother. But currently, I had the urge to change and I would do what it takes.
We had organized a small party at the picnic site adjacent to the local stream. We would gather at the place at around two in the afternoon. My friends were all happy for me and I was sure I would enjoy myself. I explained to mum about my picnic. Being the loving mother she had always been, all she asked was that I take care of myself. She had cupped that advice with the typical phrase that often begins as one exits teenage hood. She was right, I was now a big girl, and I would take care of myself. I promised to live by the advice of mum. I would not let her down. She was my heroine. She had been there for me and as I grew older, I would not take any chance at screwing her.
I arrived at the site a few minutes to two. I was taken aback by the preparations my liberal friends had made. Well, it was no secret that it would be a big day, but I did not expect just that much. The crowd had filled in, I was excited, I was amazed, and I was appreciative. Everyone wanted a hug; some of my crushes took chances taking kisses at my cheek. I was feeling good. Then from nowhere Hope would pop the champagne that signaled the start of the party. “Cheers to the conservative! She must graduate today,” Hope shouted. At that juncture, things took a different turn. I was being challenged right then. I had to play hard. I would do it, would I? Hope soon excited and onto the small makeshift stage entered Pete clinging to the roll of marijuana like it was gold. He tipped it across my face. Was I supposed to lash for it? Was this the big price that demarcated the liberal from the conservatives? Was conservatism/liberalism a mere ideological contest? I can’t pretty remember how, but I had stashed the roll into my mouth and was smoking it; the bitter, awful and weird smoke gashing down my throat. Outside, I felt badly weakened. It was pure bullying and I could see some of the sympathetic liberals look at me with concern. Inside I was at peace; I had finally conquered my world. I now earned a seat at the table of friendships. I was a complete woman now.
But alas the feeling would soon dissipate and I would return to my normal self. I had learnt it the hard way. I was wired for conservatism. I could not fit. It was not for my part. As I returned home that evening, I had the words of mum return to haunt me. I had failed her. I had screwed up. But she must not know this. It would be the most terrible. But it was too late; apparently, mum had been watching her only daughter get initiated. With embarrassment, I recoiled on her and uttered the words twenty year olds would find convenient. “I am sorry mum, I was only experimenting.”