Tsunami Shorts (Kehlani One Shots)

Ash it

No one I know of has died from smoking too much weed, but tonight if I smoke one more blunt I just might be the first person I know to overdose. At least that's just how I feel at this particular moment. Usually, I'm not such a little bitch. I can handle my weed, but tonight, I felt a little too high.

Just a little too weightless.

Just a little too carefree.

My homie Stix passed me another blunt.

"Just one more man, it ain't gone kill you," he said with some base in his voice so that he could be heard over the loud music in the club.

I took the blunt out of his hand, put it in my mouth, light the other end, and inhaled.

I knew that once I exhaled, all my problems would be farther away from me for the time being, and that's what got me through the day.

Knowing that for a few hours I could get away from the bullshit really took a load off of me.

It saved my life.

Weed saved my life.

At 19 I felt like I had nothing to show for my life because honestly, I fucking didn't. I grew up poor in the Bay, and I thought that I would probably die in the Bay hella young considering the type of niggas I rolled with.

But rolling deep with niggas that were always up no good made me feel something. The adrenaline I got from being in risky situations with them made me feel something other than the staggering emotional pain that filled my chest on a regular basis.

At a certain point of depression, you will do anything to feel something other than emotional pain.

Ever wonder why people who are severely depressed cut themselves? They do it to escape the overwhelming hurt that drives them to thoughts of suicide. The razor that cuts deep into their skin causes physical pain that almost feels good. Like a certain release of built up anger and frustration.

People who are severely depressed cut themselves to save their lives.

I used to use razors to escape my problems but my mama found out about and took them all away.

"I'm sick of you and this emotional white people shit girl," she always said, "you better tap into yo black side and overcome this mess."

I had no clue what my ethnicity had to do with my mental health, but it's safe to say that the piece of advise my mama gave to me did nothing but push me further into the dark abyss.

At that point, I had nothing to distract me from my pain so I suffered in silence, feeling as though the world was against me, and that I would be better off dead.

That's when I linked up with Stix and his squad.

"You got something that will get me out of my head for awhile man?" I asked him.

"Mary Jane is pretty good a clearing heads." He said back.

A smirk came across my lips.

The first time I took a hit of a blunt I felt like I was on top of the world, yet I was so mellow.

It was the perfect combo.

But after awhile, it took more than one blunt to get me away from my problems.

Sometimes it would take two, three, and four. By the time I was able to smoke five blunts and eat half of an edible without passing out, I knew that eventually weed wouldn't take the pain away.

No one ever knew about the depression I wrestled with because I just knew that if my own mama didn't understand, no one else would.

I felt trapped in an endless cycle of numbness and pain.

Until one day, I skated past a church that had its front doors wide open.

I had never been a religious person, nor I had I ever set foot in a church, but when I heard the word of God pouring out of those open doors I felt something touch me.

I got off the skateboard, and walked in.

No one looked back at me because everyone was so taken by the word of God.

Psalm 40:1-3

"I waited patiently for the LORD; He turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; He set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God."

Tears started to roll down my cheeks. My heart was filled with a warmth I could not describe.

God?

I never really knew him aside from what was generally spoken about him.

How can a man so high in the sky help me with the pain that I struggle with day to day?
He ain't even on the ground with me.

But the pastor said that God watches over me. He knows exactly what I feel everyday.

Well if he knows that, then why has he just allowed me to feel everything I've been feeling? Why hasn't he just delivered me from my pain? Why do I have to suffer? Am I being punished for all the wrong I've done? If he's punishing me, then why does my heart feel warm every time I hear his word?

Maybe...

Maybe God has allowed me to suffer all this time because he knew that it would bring me to him. He knew that if he delivered me too soon, I would go right back to my old ways in the Bay, which would eventually lead to my demise.

Through this pain, God has shown me my strength, my depth, and my purpose.

This pain no longer plagues me because God has laid his hands on my soul and finally healed me.

He showed me that I went through all that sorrow to come out on the other side stronger than before, and able bodied so that I could help others that feel the same way I felt to over come their trials and tribulations.

God will save you even when you feel like you've reached your breaking point and there is no hope felt.

Mental illness is nothing compared to God's greatness, his mercy, his healing, his love.

No man could have saved me from myself. Only God could.

To this day, I don't go to church as often as I should. I smoke a blunt occasionally, and curse like a sailor.

But the difference is, I know someone is watching over me. My heart is pure now. There is no more anger or hate. My spiritual relationship with God has kept my depression away.

Nothing is perfect. I still feel a bit of unrest at times.

But that's normal. I can breathe now thanks to God. I got new friends, a new heart, and a new purpose.

Thank God.