A brief return to steemit! Not my Aya story, but a story about freedom.

Apologies for the hiatus, things in my life got surprisingly difficult. I am now using a computer and not a broken phone, so I will be returing to my last series immediately. Maybe once I speak of what I've been struggling with the past few months will pardon my delay. And add flair to my story.

I have been finding the beauty and inevitability in struggling and suffering along my personal journey. Many unexpected and painful things happened, but I know I am stronger because of how things have played out. I will post later about my recent travels to California, Mexico back to California, then to Colorado and further on to Texas where the HELLTH care system taught me about how governments do not spend enough on their citizens, at least when it comes to the US. Go figure. It has been an enlightening few months, that's for damn sure. Never underestimate the power of travel and experience.

Anyway, back to my original topic...When I visited Acapulco in 2016 with my partner and his best friend, we had a couple interesting encounters that I would like to indulge in telling. This is one of those stories. We attended Anarchapulco, an anarchist conference we'd attended the year prior (I am trying to save up for this on my Patreon please feel free to send a love donation<3 ) just he and I, but we wanted to share our vision with someone closest to us both.
As any of my real friends would know, I am an avid cannabis user, and I advocate for others use of it who doctors push to dangerous pharmaceuticals (before trying holistic methods of course). Just like any true medicine and not a narcotic. I am known for my love and use of the plant medicine among my friends and family. I always do what I can to find my medicine wherever I happen to go, and I managed to befriend an edible maker who was friendly and reasonable. I bought a cheap ounce off them and just threw it in my purse without really thinking about it. Edibles sometimes have this kind of effect I hear.
Sometime later that evening, in the humid Mexican evening air, my genius (and horny) brain decided to head to a strip club for a bit, without really paying mind to the medicine in my purse. We call our taxi friend, a kind and warm man we met when we arrived in Acapluco, and headed towards the joint. No bells or alarms went off when I saw the security guard with a gun strapped across his chest. He stopped us, and motioned toward my bag, saying something in spanish I didn't understand. I opened it up, ball-bustingly-blazed at this point might I add, and he pulled the baggy out. He didn't really say anything to us, but our taxi driver told us we were fine and to go enjoy ourselves. I am well aware of the amount of privledge we have to have for things to go as they did, or luck or some shit. I shrugged it off, I wasn't really worried about it being in Acapulco.
We leave the strip club, and we ask for the taxi driver to translate for us and help us get my medicine returned. 100 USD dollars later, fifty to the guard and fifty to the taxi driver, and we're on our merry way back to the hotel to get high. I loved visiting Mexico, I also felt tested a lot there. But I hunger for the return I will eventually embark on. I seem to be drawn there without my intending it, quite a bit. Until the next time!