The Secrets of Affirmation - Manifest Your full Potential.
I chuckled.
I floated gently on the weed and went quickly through the book.
Now, the fashion scene had its fair share of alternative people, and who was I to criticize? I had been into yoga and meditation, and could only say good things about Tantric sex.
Hypnosis, that I had tried to kick my cigarette habit, had failed gloriously, much to the distress of my therapist at the time - a distress I had sought to relieve by introducing her to the pleasure of a cigarette once in a while.
And on the other hand, my friend and old colleague Juliette had left behind a raging smack habit through acupuncture, a fact I could only be pleased for.
But this?
Repeating three or four times a day “Wealth is pouring into my life” and hoping for a lottery win?
I had always considered Sabrina to be smarter than this.
And yet, her life was one long list of stupid, superficial choices, insecurity and fear, and plain old believing in fairy tales. Sometimes sinister fairy tales, like the ones Dylan the Nazi had told her.
Compared to believing she was a member of the Master Race, this fixation for new age power trips was almost a welcome change.
The dope was making me feel relaxed and sharp-minded. There was something peeking just at the back of my head, and I needed to scratch the hitch. I stood.
I fired up my laptop and started doing some simple research. While the search results loaded, I went and got me some dark chocolate. Pot and dark chocolate is my idea of a good time these days. Must be middle age advancing.
I hit jackpot almost instantly.
A 2009 study found that positive affirmation had a small, positive effect on people with high self-esteem, but a detrimental effect on those with low self esteem. Individuals with low self-esteem who made positive affirmations felt worse than individuals who made positive statements but were allowed to consider ways in which the statements were false.
Sabrina had a serious problem with self-esteem. Shehad shown her full condition just a few hours before: a tight bundleof paranoia, unhappy sexuality and crackpot ideas.
I was surprised, in a vaguely stoned, chocolate covered way, of the patent absurdity of her predicament. So she had been the object of cruel gossip back in college.
So what?
I mean, I had left college soon enough, if never too soon, and there had been no end of rumors about me, but who the fuck cared, right?
Why had Sabrina allowed those lies to get so much into her? Why hadn’t she just shrugged them off, why hadn’t she just told Mike Forlani to go hang himself?
Because deep down inside she had considered one of them.
She had cared about their opinion, and had let that opinion crush her, and mold her into an insecure, fragile, superficial woman.
I went back to bed, again feeling that weird mixture of compassion and spite for my friend.
#
Sunday.
The weather was overcast and I felt restless and unsatisfied. Late in the morning, I rolled up another spliff and I called Sabrina, to check out how she was doing.
She answered the phone with a broken voice, and it was pretty obvious she’d been through a crying session.
“Still going on about Bruno the Prick?” I asked.
She mumbled something. I lit a cigarette.
The next thing I knew, she was sobbing into my ear.
So much for her positive affirmations. Affirm what you want, I thought, you can’t change the past.
The room seemed to turn around me, like a carousel.
Or can you?
An idea started forming into my head.
A plan.
“Listen,” I said, cutting through her misery. “I think I know a way you could get out of all of this.”
“What do you mean?”
My plan was taking shape, fuelled by the pot and by a sweet thrill of pure malice.
“I mean I think you could help yourself out of all of this, the tears and the unhappiness and the problems you were telling me about yesterday. A way to be whole again.”
“How?” she breathed.
“It’s too long to explain it on the phone. Can I see you tomorrow?”
“In the mnorning?” she asked.
I would need some things. “In the afternoon. I’ll be at your place soon after lunch.”
“OK,” she said. Her voice was back under control. I could feel she was curious. “Anything I can do?”
“Now you get some sleep. Then you fix yourself a nice hot bath. I want you in full shape tomorrow.”
We exchanged a few generic pleasantries, then I hung up.
I went back to where my laptop was waiting from last night. I needed information, and then I’d make a few calls.
I took another solid hit on my joint.
I was sure this would work.
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