I Wasn’t High (But I Was Ready to Leave)

Captured by Mitchell Royel in stunning 1080x1080—and yeah, it's perfect, the kind of frame that stops you mid-scroll and makes you feel something you didn't know you needed to feel. Now playing "Like An 808" by Enrey Kide (It), George Dala, and honestly? The track hits different. It's got that low-end rumble that shakes through your chest, the kind of beat that makes you move without thinking, just pure instinct. This is the vibe—raw, unfiltered, exactly where I need to be right now. Mitchell knows how to capture a moment, and this song? It's the soundtrack to it. No notes. Just energy.

Look, I need to get something off my chest because the guys won’t stop bringing it up and honestly, I’m tired of defending myself in group chats at 2 AM.

Yes, I smoke weed. Socially. At kickbacks. When someone passes something around and the vibe is right. I’m not going to pretend I’m above it or that I’m some straight-edge purist. That’s not what this is about.

This is about the night I stood at my window, bags packed, genuinely—and I mean genuinely—convinced I was about to get abducted by a UFO.

And no, I wasn’t high.

I know how that sounds. Trust me. I’ve heard the laughs, seen the screenshots of my texts circulating. “Bro said he’s waiting for the mothership” with like fifteen crying-laughing emojis. Yeah, I see you, Marcus.

But here’s the thing: I believed it. Standing there in my polo and jeans, staring out into the night sky, I felt this pull. This certainty. Like the universe was about to crack open and show me something nobody else gets to see. I had my backpack ready. Essentials. I texted the boys—told them if I disappeared, this was why. I wasn’t joking. I wasn’t spiraling. I was ready.

Was I being rational? Absolutely not. Did I look insane? Probably. But in that moment, it felt more real than anything I’d felt in months.

And that’s the part nobody wants to talk about when they’re busy roasting me. The fact that I was so ready to leave that I packed a bag and waited. What does that say? What was I running from—or running toward?

I’ve spent my whole life being the guy with strong instincts who doesn’t always act on them. I’m the guy who knew something was off about that Donald Trump x Elon Musk alliance but didn’t speak up. I felt it in my gut—this weird, uncomfortable energy—but I stayed quiet because who wants to be that guy at the kickback? The one who kills the vibe with politics?

So yeah, maybe this UFO thing was just another version of that. Ignorance on fire. Blind faith in something I couldn’t explain or prove. Trusting my gut so hard I literally packed a bag and waited by the window like some kind of cosmic Uber was coming.

And sure, it has its pitfalls—like becoming a meme in your own friend group.

But I am who I am.

I’m the guy who feels things deeply, even when they don’t make sense. I’m the guy who writes songs about vulnerability and then actually lives it, even when it’s embarrassing. I’m the guy who will stand at a window with a packed bag, waiting for something extraordinary, because I refuse to live a life where extraordinary things feel impossible.

Did the UFO come? No. Obviously. I’m still here, writing this, fielding texts about how I “almost joined the aliens.”

But would I do it again?

Honestly? Yeah. Probably.

Because the alternative is living like nothing magical could ever happen. And I can’t do that. I won’t. I’d rather be the guy who believed too hard than the guy who never believed at all.

So to the guys: laugh all you want. Post the screenshots. I’ll take the L on this one. But just know that when that UFO does show up, I’m not bringing any of you.

You had your chance.

— Deck

P.S. I still have the bag packed. Just in case.