Unspoke Magazine: Issue Two by Unspoke Magazine

THROUGH THE DARK Anonymous I was faced with the most difﬁcult decision of my life:!

! Should I let you back into my life after all the pain you had caused me?! !

Honestly, I knew the obvious answer, but I was so hurt and scared. I really entertained the idea of not letting you back in. !

There I was, sitting in an office in the town’s municipal building talking to the detective on duty and a police officer, all because of you. Because I had finally had enough. !

The previous night, you had come home at 2 am, screamed at me, and ripped me from my bed. I can’t remember if it was because you were using or because you were newly clean. Either way, the drugs and alcohol, it fucked with who you were. Made you completely different. Made you a person that you weren’t. You would turn into a stranger full of rage and anger. You were a ticking time bomb whenever you were using and I never knew which version of you I was going to be facing. I was living in constant fear. !

! Is he going to come home angry and take it out on me?! ! Is he going to yell at me or my mom?! !

Will I get a text that he’s in the ER again after going on a bad binge and almost killed himself again?!

! I was so exhausted of hurting and being hurt because of his addiction. ! !

But I wasn’t tired of you when you were sober. Even if it were just for a few hours and I got a glimpse of the person you used to be. When we had those hours we would spend playing video games. I wasn’t tired of you when we would go on night runs to Wawa, watch cartoons, or even just joking around for a quick second. I wasn’t tired of you when I had my brother back.!

Not ﬁling a restraining order or a formal statement against you was the best decision I ever made. I got my brother back, eventually. I got my best friend back. And I couldn’t be more grateful. !

IMMUNITY ANONYMOUS

Surrounded by red cups, some spilling liquor over the tattered and crowded apartment, a couple hundred people are too close to each other, basking under the neon strobe lights. The music is loud, so loud that hearing one another is nearly impossible, the key to any modern social event. I’m dancing with my friends, a slight buzz making my vision blurry and my dancing even more clumsy than it already would be. Regardless of how good I feel, it seems that everyone is anxious for more. Some pull water bottles full of clouded liquid out of their pockets, emptying them quickly. Others split into pairs, retreating to private spaces. I notice a few that slip out the back door onto the balcony, including a couple of my friends. With the shortened attention span of the modern age, I tire of dancing quickly and choose to follow my friends to the balcony.

They stand in a circle, crowding around something. It’s a blue and red colored glass piece that they’re packing tightly with weed. My friend asked if I wanted to try it and I obliged. The typical scenario played out — I learned how to take a hit, compete with a burned throat

and a cough attack. A few hits later, there were cheers about how high I was going to get because of how big my hits were. They all stared at me with anticipation, expecting exclamations of a distorted reality, but all I felt were the few remains of my buzz. I was severely disappointed. Over the next few months, I tried again and again.

I tried without drinking — nothing. I smoked more — nothing. I didn’t eat before — nothing. I ate a lot before — nothing. Most recently, my friends packed me three bowls that I had almost to myself — nothing.

After looking online about my problem, it turns out it isn’t uncommon for someone to be immune to the effects of weed. Sometimes it’s a hormonal effect, other times it’s a mental block. My friends have a theory that I’m high on life already, so I wouldn’t notice the effects. Even if this is the case, it doesn’t save me from jealousy at the nonsobriety of other people. Based on stories I’ve heard, it seems like I’m missing out.

LEGAL MARIJUANA by Rachel Flynn

When you light up, what are you thinking about? If it isn’t institutional racism through incarceration and marijuana laws, then maybe it should be. As the legalization and decriminalization of marijuana keeps gaining the attention of lawmakers and the media, we need to address the issues of systematic racism that come with the industry. In states where recreational pot is legal, including Colorado, Oregon, and Washington, white business entrepreneurs are making millions of off the newly legal drug while black dealers and users are still being put away into prison for simply possessing marijuana at a disproportionate rate in states where it is illegal. White people use the drug the same rate as blacks, yet it is blacks who are doing most of the jail time. According to an analysis by the American Civil Liberties Union, “blacks have been nearly four times more likely than whites to be arrested for marijuana possession.” In states like Iowa, Minnesota, Illinois, and even Washington D.C., before any decriminalization of the drug occurred, the rate was even higher —

blacks were 7.5 to 8.5 more likely to be arrested than their white counterparts. Having a criminal record can affect the course of a person’s entire life, and make it harder for them to acquire a job, start a business, take out loans, and more. That means it is harder for those who have marijuana related crimes on their record to enter this newly legal business, and that once again, white people have the advantage. Recent decriminalization and legalization will not ﬁx or reverse years of racism. We should take into consideration the history of racism that comes with the marijuana industry whether we choose to participate or not. There’s no simple solution for undoing years of systematic racism, but there are some plenty of things we can do in our lives to help. Donating money and time to impoverished communities, volunteering at drug and alcohol rehabilitation centers, and taking political action with blacks’ rights groups such as Black Lives Matter are just a few of the many ways we can make even just a small difference.