Disclaimer: I am not ashamed of this. I am only happy that I was around.
I was brushing my teeth when my brother called, which is honestly a rough time to be answering a phone, what with the necessity of speech. But it was a short conversation; he needed cigars because he was out, and he wanted to smoke. This would be a good time to mention that my brother is still six months below the legal age at which he can purchase his own.
Not tobacco, folks, but that terrible big green monster that so many people think is evil. I’m not going to lie and say that I’m an expert who has read a ton of research about marijuana. I’m not even going to lie to you and tell you that I smoke it, or eat it, or whatever else it is that kids are doing these days. In fact, I only really want to push for legalization because it would be an economical decision. Money makes the world go ’round when you live in a capitalist society.
I do know, though, that it has been an incredible benefit to my brother’s mental health. He has an incredibly fragile mind. His life right now is not looking very good. He dropped out of school a couple of years ago, but never took his GED test because his anxiety made it physically impossible for him to show up and take it. He has no job, despite his incredible brain. He has few friends that aren’t gamers from a website called Twitch. He is exactly the stereotypical nerdy lives-with-his-parents-until-he’s-forty kind of guy, except that he really isn’t. And every other guy you thought was, probably wasn’t either.
You might be thinking that I’m a terrible big sister. (Or a great one, depending on what side of the blunt you sit on.) You may also think my parents, who are aware of and facilitate his self-medication, are terrible people. But listen to me when I say that I prefer my brother, smoking a natural substance that’s been proven to help thousands of people, in his almost-happy, capable-of-everyday-activities state. The alternative is a boy, on mind-altering drugs that cost my parents a fortune in medical bills, who is not only miserable, irate, and unreachable, all while taking medications with ingredients that appear in the likes of battery acid, explosives, and noxious fumes.
So, when my professor looked me in the eye and publicly embarrassed me in front of my class for being tardy, I smiled as I sat down at my desk. I rest easy knowing that my brother won’t have to spend an entire day of complete misery than I do, knowing that my dick professor thinks I’m a good student.