Kay, I gotta say, I am really tired of being unable to avoid breathing in and getting surrounded by the smell of weed.

If you make the decision to smoke it, that's your decision, and I respect that. But please respect that there are people who want to be nowhere near it.

In my house, I'm the only one who doesn't smoke.
My parents have always had something. I know for a fact that my mom became a junkie in high school, I'm fairly certain my dad was too. Throughout my early childhood they both smoked cigarettes (a lot, around me). Now they smoke weed. I can't be certain how often, but I'm beginning to think it's every day (because I smell it).
My brother is most definitely a pothead. He bakes himself alone in the basement, sometimes he brings gangs of random friends over and they all sit and smoke. I know that he spends nearly all of his free time smoking.

Well, I choose not to be on drugs. Yes, every couple of weeks (usually closer to once a month) I have something to drink. I like a glass of wine from time to time. That is my poison of choice, I suppose. But I consider this to be entirely different for multiple reasons. For one, I don't drink very often. It is not a habit nor is it an addiction. And two, I do not harm or involuntarily involve anyone when I do decide to have a drink. Finally three, I am responsible about it, never overdo it, and absolutely do not run any risk of getting into trouble with it.

Here is how my family's drug use compares.
They are absolutely addicted, because they are using drugs and that is what drugs do. I have no doubt they are at the point that they need weed to function. Possibly what bothers me most is that they surround me with it, against my will. I am forced to smell it when I walk by my parents' room, when my brother comes nearby, when I have to go to the basement (the headquarters of the potheads in the neighborhood, I'm beginning to suspect) in order to let my dog out or do laundry. The smell of marijuana makes me feel very, very sick, and I want desperately not to breathe in smoke, yet I am not allowed that choice. When my boyfriend comes over I am embarrassed at the fact that he may be exposed to it as well. It is disgusting and totally unacceptable that I can't make the decision about my health to completely avoid drugs. What makes things absolutely wretched is that my brother is an idiot with it. Because he was so stupid that he brought his illegal drugs to school with him one day, and yes, he got suspended.

I'm horrified because my parents see no problem with their child doing drugs. Even though those substances, especially when the user is young and still developing, have absolutely debilitating effects.
And I'm furious that I get in trouble for asking them to open windows. That I am scolded for being judgmental when I say I don't like it. When I'm put down and pushed aside when I try to stand up for myself and the treatment I deserve in the house I have to live in.

Because if I could leave I would. Because I am desperate to get out of here. But I can't yet and so I am resigned to trying to hold my breath and cough the smell out the best I can.
And I hate this.

Even if my family wasn't screwed up and horrible already, even if they were wonderful and I was really happy at home, having no choice but to live in a fog of weed would be enough for me to fully resent and despise my family.
So you can imagine my lack of enthusiasm and happiness to be in their company.
And it will probably come out at some point how much I hate the decisions they have made and how little respect for them I have left.
And it is not going to be pretty.

Oh well. I felt like I needed to vent about it, especially since the High Kid Wonder just walked by and assaulted my senses with a very disgusting smell.

I am very, deeply angry about it all.