The Toad Smoker

It's 2019. I'm 26. I smoke a toad. Literally. The most powerful substance on the planet. The same chemical released when we are born and when we die. The molecule of who we are. Imagine being softly caressed by an angel whilst getting fisted by the devil at the same time. Every hole filled by mother nature. To an outsider, you would look like you are possessed. As an insider, you know you are possessed. Enchanted by a beauty so deep you wouldn't want it any other way. Not like you could have it any other way even if you tried. The freedom in surrender. Laughing through the tears. One of those experiences so hard to talk about over beers. "Write Kristian, Write." That's what the toad kept saying. "You owe me some magic. It's time you started paying."

Writing. The words that come out of the mouth flow differently to those that spill on the page. Every human needs to find a way to unleash themselves from their cage. We think that writing is made for the intelligent. How wrong could we be. Most of the smartest people find it hard to see. So many trapped in information. So many trapped in knowledge. So many had their spirits belted out of them way back in college. Everything you need to know has always been inside you. You have somehow locked your heart away and that is the fucking issue. Bleed who you are. Bleed what you need. Your courage to express yourself will leave so many people freed. If you don't think you can write, please think again. All that you really need is a fucking pen. Paper is not even needed. Start writing on your hands. Clearing out your mind will clarify your plans.

With love, Kristian Michail.