To Change

I really wanted to change.
Change the way my mother looked at me when I was high.
Change the way teachers scowled at me when
My eyes were brimming with redness.
Change the way he would hold me, feel me.
Just to leave yet again.

But it wasn’t that easy, and I knew that.
I knew that I couldn’t just drop a half-lit joint
On the ground, and stamp on it until
Drugs dissolved with dirt.
I knew that.
But I didn’t know how to change,
Or how to stop using all the money
I owned for things that killed me.

I wanted to be able to solve simple problems
Without thinking,
And wanted to be able to remember things
That happened only yesterday.
I wanted to be able to taste food, as 
It wrapped around my sensitive taste buds.
I wanted to be able to see clearly for once,
And be able to understand the complexity in
Relationships once again.

But maybe my will for forgetting was 
More important to me than my will for
Changing.
I didn’t understand, to be honest.
When sober, I could work it out.
I could weigh the pros and cons,
And hold them close to my chest,
Finding the right decision.
But when high,
I couldn’t.
I could only smile, and laugh
At irrelevant things that would soon
Be forgotten.