So I'm High...

And I've had a great idea for a scene I'd love to write in a stoner comedy/itellectual movie I want made someday, haha. Or maybe it'll end up just being a monologue I can give to aspiring theater nerd stoners.

So, I have to set the scene for you, though. The scene plays out as follows:

Someone, man, woman, child, congressman, lolz, catches you not only HIGH but smoking those illegal mary-juh-wah-nuh drugs right in public. They say to you:


"Don't you have any sense?! Who do you think you are?"

You reply with:

"Miss/Ma'am/Sir/Dude/etc...

If I may, I believe the question is "What do I think I am?"

A druggie?
A loser?
A hippie?

Or perhaps are you looking at it too negatively to possibly comprehend how I see things?

Honestly, there are three types of people out there:
 Idealists,
Theologists,
and Realists.

Everyone thinks they all have the right idea, but who is honestly correct here?

Is it the Idealist, who thinks something can be made real if we wish it enough, thus creating a lie for others to reach for in desperation?

Or is it the Theologist, who tries to put those wishes to reality to make them true or false so there is no more grief, but in the end, sacrifices integrity in order to be seen as a leader?

No...

The correct one here is the Realist, the one who sees the world just as it is, and can possibly be within its own limits. He never reaches too far beyond his grasp because the world has scorned him one too many times. He doesn't take advantage of others because he knows the outcome has nothing to gain. He has seen the world, its hunger, its sadness, its cruelty and malice. But he has also seen beauty in the tiniest places because he began paying attention to the world that rushes around him.

He watches them struggle and cope,
gain and boast,
live and die,
and know that one cannot live without the other.

He is the one who watches the other two fight to the death over their beliefs

He is the Realist; the seer of all outcomes
The bird outside of the cage looking in
The terrified child witness to a tornado's rampage

He is I. I am Me

We are few in number so we cannot fight the voices that scream over one another. We do no harm, yet we get punished. We work, we go to war, we pay taxes, we vote, we try to have our voices heard, but we are ants amongst the swooping winds that sway the grass. Do I not count? Is my voice not important because there aren't enough of me in the world? What are YOU, then? An Idealist? or a Theologist? One or the other telling from your tone, as if you're better than me. If silence is what you want then so be it, I will return to my quiet hole from whence I came and continue to watch the world destroy itself around me with petty arguments that have no outcome. When your day comes and you need someone to stand by you, we won't be there to answer the call, we'll be far too busy saving the world from itself