-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just. Let. Go.
So I guess my bipolar bear disorder has claimed another victim. Inappropriate behavior. Whatever. Dope shooter. Pants pooper. 5,000 girlfriends by the time you're 40. Toothless bastard. I think it shows how lonely and mistreated I've been that I would ever think that would be a good idea to be more than friendly with my friend. He's got the Kavorka, so I blame him. I still like him, but now he can't even be my friend.
Ever since he got the sunflowers he's barely responded to texts. He hasn't said anything about them, but I was notified they were delivered. I guess it's just too weird. Women don't give men flowers.
It was never directly brought up, but between the lines I've noticed most men to don't believe me when I tell them my husband doesn't care if I have sex with them. It's just unheard of or something. Or it's just that they can't think of seeing their friend again and having that awkward moment of yeah, I had sex with your wife. Or it's just that people lie a lot. I'm beginning to see how often most people lie compared to how often I don't. I wish I could be one of those people that can have sex without caring about that person. You know, like most people.
I'm a freak and I belong in the circus. Only I'm not freak enough so I'd have to be the person that cleans up after the animals or something.
I really need to remember my place. The last call lady. Lady picture show. The last picture show. Freak.
So I have to move to my parents' house now? Like I should have done years ago. But I kept trying to make things work with my husband, and he was 150% against it for this reason or that. I was stupid enough to think that moving away from all his doper friends and to a place with legal weed meant he could just get high naturally. He pretty much said as much. But I'm naive, or too optimistic or just plain stupid. Meth is everywhere. People offer it to you just walking down the street. People shoot up here in the parks and it's just la di da business as usual. Most people don't get off meth without professional help.
Weed is just another drug for people to add to their cocktail of medicines. The hippies used to call it sacred herb, but there is nothing sacred left about it. Growing it yourself, maybe, and having a relationship with it, just like growing your own food. But when you just go to a dope shop and throw your money down, it's just another drug. And it's really disappointing. I thought people would be more enlightened or happier or even nicer because they didn't have to be criminals for this one horribly stupid reason.
Things have been so bad since I got here, I can't even appreciate that fact. I am not a criminal anymore. Except you're not supposed to smoke inside any buildings. But when the manager grows black market weed and has pot parties, it's just something you don't discuss. Don't ask, don't tell. Still. Here, you get legal cannabis, but only people with a private house get to smoke inside. Everyone else has to smoke on a balcony if you have one (you're not even supposed to smoke in a yard of a shared building) or be a criminal. Smoking in public is also not allowed. People do all of those things of course, but they can fine you big time.
So. I'm too embarrassed to move back to Rochester now. My only crime is that I love too easily, too much. That and the inside pot smoking, but we already covered that.
And my husband keeps bleating that he doesn't want to be alone. He's begged me not to leave him but he refuses to get any help. I honestly just want to die. And now I don't even get the joy of daily texts from Big K to cheer me up. Because I obviously did something wrong. I've done this before, and it ended up pretty much the same.
So I've been de-cluttering. A continuation of what I started back at the Roch house. We had 4 U-haul pods to get here and I can't do that again. Big K broke his back helping us pack up and move, but we have no one now. We could pay someone. I could pay someone, but I could also just learn to let go.
Will I regret it? I regret all of it.
10:20 PM - Saturday, Aug. 22, 2020
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------