Staring adoringly into the blue eyes of a tall man with dirty blonde hair, who is dressed like a teen (oversize plaid shirt, baggy jeans, and sneakers). I sit right next to him, pulling apart portions of weed so that he can roll it into a blunt. We are fully engaged in the sight of each other, while other men in the room are freestyle rapping about politics and hardships in America. The smell of marijuana takes over the air. I feel a little kick to my feet, it’s my best friend, signaling it’s time to go home. How did I get here?!?