Lease would not be renewed. No cause.
I had until January, but I just wanted to go.
Start over.
Moved out of MP5.
Scrubbed and caulked and made the place look like I'd never been there as best I could.
Still had to fight for even part of my deposit, gave it to M.
(Never let them charge you for a new carpet, such bullshit.)
A came with R and helped move everything. They did save me that night.
Moved into A's house.
There was maybe two weeks worth of happiness.
We'd smoke cigarettes on the tiny couch in the basement, surrounded by dust and darkness and VHS cassettes. We'd watch movies set in Arthurian times and debate religion and psychology without ever really hating each other.
It was so wonderfully quiet.
Then the bullshit started and it was hell and chaos and pressure and uncertainty until I moved out.
Installed locks on both sides of the attic door and tried to stay up there as much as possible.
Spent my birthday with La and Le - saw the Theory of Everything and got a bit drunk at a comedy show.
Received some money from my mom and dad and dad's mom, which I appreciated, but was spent on bills or things I no longer have. I had wanted to get a new phone and plan from Republic Wireless but my sister told me to wait and I never got the phone or a less expensive plan. Participated in Reddit Secret Santa and got an awesome book I still haven't finished reading, as well as a cat bed/scratching post, and cat toys.
Started a Go Fund Me and raised $80. Still grateful to those who cared, even if they couldn't help.
January 2015:
By and large these are days I would be happier to forget...
February:
"Sometimes I think to myself:
and it kills me
Due to my context
who I am
where I am
I don't think I'll ever touch
anything close to that
(Even this sounded better in my head)
and the last thing I want to be
is some jealous bitter hag
who can't be happy for nobody else
who is too busy wanting other people's lives
paths
friendships
instead of making her own
too torn between the writing life
(disciplined, secluded, focused)
and living a life worth writing about
(outgoing, wild, where the best nights are the ones you forget)
because she wanted it all to be now now now
So people were always characters
and life split into chapters
and lived as though there were some cohesion
until the day nothing mattered anymore
Maybe it works out in that way
In order to see all that I do
I have to be a distance away from it
nothing new here, nothing new"
What Home Means
On the bus an older lady and little girl get up and move from their front row seats for a man in a wheelchair. The lady tucks into the last open seat on the outside of a pair, the little girl holding her hand, unseated. An older man across the aisle slides over to give his spot to the little girl. She looks at the stranger and starts to cry. Her lady pulls her close - keeping her safe from the stranger but allowing her to stand, half between her lady's lap and the seat, and half in the aisle.
Another lady comes down from the back and takes the open seat next to the man - she must be family, because the first lady hands the little girl over to her and she picks her up and holds her enclosed in her arms - next to the man but now safe from him. At home among strangers.
Of course one could argue that the ideal thing would be to teach the little girl not to be afraid, and not to expect someone to keep her safe. But then again, maybe she has that luxury. Some people do.
It'll probably just be another moment none of them remembers anyway.
It only matters to me because I saw something in that moment. I saw the raising, the social education, of the modern american woman. I saw fear, perhaps unnecessary fear - depends on the stranger. Or is that just my own fear talking? No, no, it happens. Everything happens to somebody.
I have to be careful not to let myself get carried away by what I wish was reality - that's the curse of positivism. That's the problem with belief. And then I swing so hard in the other direction - or is that just in contrast to society's hyper positive position?
I just want to be where I can be completely myself.
To be myself without insulting anyone. Without boring anyone. Without depressing anyone.
Without having to fight them. Without feeling it is my personal responsibility to refute them.
Or at least to be able to do so from the distance of a computer - that way physical violence is an impossibility.
I must have seen two hundred houses yesterday. I walked and wound through neighborhoods from Hawthorn to Hollywood. I was down on Foster where things seem up-and-coming (there are cafes and late night shops selling board games among the convenience stores and concrete that reminds me of 82nd). I was seeing an apartment there - I'm still unsure if I'll take it. Bused up to Hawthorn where every ten steps is some whimsical surprise or picture perfect hipster and started walking - searching for apartment buildings hidden among the homes of every imaginable size, color, architecture.
These houses are beautiful. Each one has a personality of its own. You imagine the inhabitants. You imagine the background stories. A million dollhouses. All those homes I built in The Sims as a kid, come to life. Some of the homes are so big that I am skeptical as to whether a single family could even occupy the whole thing. A home so tremendous it must have four families in it - but an old fashioned car makes me think otherwise. How do you even have enough stuff to fill out all those rooms? How do you even have time to use it?
I wonder to myself: what the hell did they do to get a place like that? How?
I catch myself feeling surprisingly hateful and angry when I see a giant mess through their big beautiful bay windows - what a waste, what a waste. And I say that being a mess myself. (Please let me grow out of all the things I hate about myself...)
My heart leaps at the sight of an attic window, especially the ones that sit above porches with wind chimes and rocking chairs. With touches of care and beauty and good taste. Vines and flowers spread across a yard, a swing hangs from a tall evergreen, a cat paws the moss on a rooftop - I imagine being inside - you could forget entirely that you were in the middle of a city.
Along the sidewalks little libraries and notes on telephone poles and sweet small shops and coffee spots that sell bicycle bells. With the sun peaking through the clouds, a burst of heat, someone's art sculpture garden tinging in the breeze, casting rainbow shadows along the ground through broken beer bottles rearranged into mobiles of jewel colored glass; you feel so pleasant you could almost fall in love.
They tell us we'll want children when we're older, but so far I just want a place of my own.
A place I can be myself without hurting anybody's feelings.
A place where I can imagine the world is exactly how I think it is
and it could be exactly how I wish it would be.
I wonder if that's what we all want, no matter what it is we believe.
If that's what 'feeling at home' means - or could.
Good things: saw Motion City Soundtrack. M met me at Killer Burger and gave me a copy of The First Bad Man by Miranda July. I came to visit for her birthday. I wish I would have known it'd be the last time she'd want to see me.
March:
That time someone asked me to marry them...
And then I found my new apartment, moved out of A's with the help of Ra and his girlfriend, along with my boss at the smoke shop covering my deposit, and I started the next big wave of changes that would happen this year...
April:
One thing is for sure, the rain has its magic, but I love Portland best when it's warm.
I should quit my job.
I'm a good person with a college education.
I care about the impact I'm making on individuals who come to me for any kind of help.
I'm the kind of girl who dreamt about changing the world.
I'm the kind of person who gave a shit when no one else did.
I genuinely want the boss to put a "Meth: Not even once" sign in the window.
I don't belong here.
I just can't tell whether that's me having standards or that's me being a judgmental asshole about something I've never done. It seems I've been an asshole about a lot of things.
I just don't want to sell people this stuff. Maybe I don't want to sell them anything.
Unless it's special. Worthy of purchase. And priced appropriately.
Here you just see people keeping themselves down. You know they can barely afford this garbage and that they're buying it anyway and it's supposed to make their lives feel better but it just keeps them stuck in the hell they're trying to medicate.
I suppose that's okay if life really doesn't get better.
If you're someone with no hope of any way out.
Of becoming someone worth being.
If you believe that, anyway.
Or maybe the cold hard truth is that we're all too stupid to help ourselves.
The kind of people who tend to come into a place like this.
Don't you have any taste? Can't you see this is mass-produced garbage?
Oh, you have two more pipes at home? What the fuck are you wasting $20 on this one for?
I've thought - maybe they just don't know any better - but I can't be the one to educate them.
Every time I open my mouth, it's a risk. I haven't always been able to stop myself from trying to help.
The most I can do is give dirty looks and not offer bubble wrap to the ones buying bubble pipes.
Ignore the compliments of the two regulars who buy roses and chore-boy brillo.
I don't want to participate in enabling people to do meth or crack.
I don't want to keep my mouth shut about the potential risks of e-cigarettes or metal in general.
I support marijuana, and even then I realize that it has hurt me as much as it has helped me.
It has possibly cost me everything, if you want to blame my loneliness on that.
I see how it could be used to ruin generations of people.
We live in a hierarchy just like the Hindus, only ours barriers are invisible.
For certain demographics, legal weed will be exactly what's needed to keep them in "their place".
But my boss has helped me. Wasn't that nice?
He's paid roughly $350 for my deposit/first rent.
I wouldn't be living where I am without him.
I would still be at A*'s and under the threat of having the utilities shut off each month and the possibility of getting sucked into the shady bullshit they have going on.
Even though I have trouble sleeping at night now, it's more than worth having gotten out of that house.
But like my boss has said, nothing is without some benefit. He only helps me because he gets something out of it. In his heart it's clear he thinks I'm a "stupid fucking idiot" and he probably feels good whenever he gets one over on me because in his mind that means his philosophy wins and the good guys finish last.
Did you know my mom has never read anything I've ever written?
Even my dad read and liked that one story that one time.
But he never calls me anymore.
I have a handful of faces in my head.
I miss every one of them.
And they're all shitty fucking friends.
I don't feel like I can talk to people anymore.
I'm losing all confidence in my ability to be a regular person.
I can't have friends.
I can't connect.
I can't be present.
I can't do enough for you.
I can't make you feel special.
I can't make you feel anything but bored, or annoyed, or rejected.
Life was better when I had you in it.
When you were willing to say you loved me.
When you were willing to say you loved me.
So sick of being the dumb fuck obsessed with people who could not care less if they tried, which they won't, because I'm just a joke they laugh at when they need some cheering up.
Dear Facebook Friends: I love seeing how happy you are! I love seeing your travels and your friends. Your ups and downs and adventures through life. The sayings and quotes that resonate with your heartstrings. The music and media and photographs that you love and that you've made yourself. I appreciate the insightful articles and powerful activism behind something as simple and easy as sharing. I truly love it and I'm happy for you and I'm happy I got to experience a tiny slice because of you - but when I look back at myself, I don't see what I see in your life. Even if you're cherry picking the good parts, I simply don't have any cherries at all.
Other things: Saw Tiger's Jaw. Bought a bucket of day old Voodoo donuts and gave them out at work. Got approved for my OMMP card. My septum piercing healed and I bought a better ring.
May:
June:
A started hanging out with me more and more again. I thought it might be better now that we didn't live with each other. It was, up to a point.
Thanks to the store camera, took a lot of pictures.
Wondered what the hell I'm doing here and beat myself up for not participating in the World Naked Bike Ride.
I missed M.
Hung out with W a bit and met his new crew - spent the night before the 1st with them on the Burnside Bridge amongst a crowd of celebrating stoners.
July:
Legalization day in Oregon...
7 - T
I have been warned.
But I think things might still come out better than before.
It does feel like landmines have been set all around, and they're waiting for me to step on one.
I even said that to my boss, who confirmed that yes, that's how it is.
I need to be more careful.
Of course, in any job where you are not the boss, you do as you are told,
But up until now it seemed that as long as no one complained, no one cared.
About anything, really.
Now there's a laundry list of ways that I could mis-step.
And it really fucks with my anxiety. Really fucks with my worst-case-scenario simulator.
If I fuck up at work, it will be "goodbye, thank you very much, have a nice life".
We have new security measures. Reinforced policies. However, talking to my boss, I felt able to defend my positions and what I have done right as his employee and I feel things will work out as long as he sees a new level of dedication and responsibility and professionalism.
I do believe I could do good things here.
Be the change.
And still maintain my mental groove.
M* thought I'd gotten Stockholm Syndrome but nevertheless, I hope they'll let me do that.
I really, desperately, don't want to get fired.
He told me that if I were at any other job I'd have been fired 10 times by now.
He's said similar things before. Making it seem like I'm a charity case.
But I have been good. I have been here every day. I have done as asked.
I have worked independently. I have done manager work for cashier pay.
I have even gone above and beyond, designing labels and business cards.
I'm even in charge of the social media - which I kept up until it felt like nobody cared.
If anything has been wrong, it's been the environment.
It's been the culture shock between the life I knew and the life here.
The biggest tragedy of capitalism is that people are valued less than the money they spend.
The weirdest thing he said was "I'd rather fire you than have you get robbed."
To which I told him that I'd rather get robbed than become homeless.
And I am very, very troubled that that will be exactly the case.
Looking around both my job and my home, it seems far too easy and rampant a possibility.
I hate feeling unwanted. I hate feeling like I have cared far more than they ever did.
If nothing else, perhaps they don't hate me as much as they sense how conflicted I've been.
I have had to grow into this role as a customer service person.
I have had to deal with the days when I'm crying and can't smile and am aching and depressed while still trying to serve someone else. Sometimes, that someone else is higher than I've ever been in my life - often on substances I have never consumed. I've had to deal with men who get angry and write horrid reviews - straight up even lying online - because they didn't like my tone of voice or they must have felt rejected somehow. I didn't laugh at their stupid joke, or whatever. They were looking for someone to shit on. Yet, I'll have people tell me to my face that they like me more than my co-worker - but the reviews are more important to my boss.
My boss just doesn't want a headache.
The easier I can make things, the happier he'll be.
I have always been stuck between loving and hating this job.
Stuck in the imagined criticisms of everyone who knew me before I met M* and moved here.
What my family, MHS, houseparents, friends, other bosses - what they all expected of me.
I am an anxious person. I have a strict background. I was built for extreme success.
I am ambitious and I always want to make things better than they already are.
I have worried I'm doing the wrong thing. That I've been facilitating an evil in the world.
I have been trying to change my own mind about that.
I think this job has taught me a lot, even inadvertently.
It has been a lesson in how diverse culture is and how deeply it runs through different areas, different groups, even within the same country. How people value other people. How people interact with other people. What people think is important. What people think is good, or right, or okay. What people expect of themselves and others. What people will use as an excuse to discredit someone else so they might feel better about themselves. People from every income level and every background and every variation.
Most of all, it is about drugs and legal rights.
It's about predictability and fear.
It is about public health. Re-imagining what that might be.
It's about how people get on with living their lives.
There are unique perks to this work.
I've talked about those before.
The fact that I could spend even an hour of my day writing here, and then make bags of Kratom while watching The X-Files - or that I could be reading articles online between customers - or that I am simply left alone - ever and often - with my own thoughts - my mental groove. No one is barking orders every minute. No one is making me dress a certain way. No one is asking me to perform physical labor very quickly. No one is stopping me from writing, from thinking, from still being partially myself in a world where "the employee" is a robot built for customer satisfaction.
Could things be better?
Yes.
In very practical terms, do I need to start making more money in order to survive - and come next year - start paying my student loans?
Yes.
Would it be possible that, if I prove myself to my boss now, that he'll make me a manager of his new store and pay me a manager's salary?
Maybe. He's said he would.
And in doing all this, would it be possible that I could finish my own personal creative work while also working for him - rather than getting another job where I will be sucked into investing my energies there, will have to learn and adapt to a whole new set of things and people, and will have to put away all the thoughts I have all day, every day? All the things I've been working on? And where my introversion and anxiety and ambition might very well just get me fired, again?
I think so.
It's worth trying hard enough to see if it works out.
Had some trouble with my family as well - felt the need to separate from their narrative.
Tried to be more positive.
August:
On August 4th I quit my job.
I had been working at the smoke shop since April 2013.
There were a lot of contributing factors, but most of all, I needed my life to change.
I needed to find something better. Somewhere with a positive future.
They said they were opening a new store, but I wasn't going to be made a manager as he'd promised when I was hired and my co-worker and I still wouldn't have health care. He said A was trash and when I told him how M would say I had stockholm syndrome from this place, and he told me that M "just used me and wanted to see me struggle". I quit then and there, but my boss didn't take me seriously. The next day, paychecks were late and rent was due and I was fed up. He gave me the rent in cash and I left, explaining that "I can't be this person anymore". He told me to have a nice life, just like he always said he would.
I didn't spend long feeling good about that.
It was kind of my boss to call me later and say he cancelled my debt (he had kept the rest of my check as well) and he said that I could work for him again if I wanted. But I needed to leave.
I don't think I'll ever go back, not that I've been able to find the job of my dreams.
I worked for a woman who sold music to companies for movie trailers.
The first day we spent together, she seemed to keep dropping thoughts that made me seem masculine. We were at a bar by her house at the end of the day and I asked her straight up if she thought I was like a guy, and without pause, she said yes. That gig didn't last long.
I tried to do canvassing to save the bees, but the incessant fakery of the scripts and the absurd amounts of money they want you to ask for left a bad taste in my mouth. I only stayed a couple days.
September:
August blended in with September.
My sister helped me pay my rent.
I got a job at a hotel gift shop. My boss seemed cool. The hours were a little hard (early morning) and it was only part-time but there was free lunch and the job itself seemed easy.
Then, I landed a receptionist position at a dispensary. I thought I had finally got my life back on track.
Holy shit, I couldn't have been more wrong.
Sept. 29th
An Email
Subject: Boss, Friend, or Mentor?
"Dear S---,
I think I communicate best through writing, and now that I've had a night to think about it, I wanted to broach the subject of our conversation yesterday.
You said that you had never been a boss before, and you asked me if we could be friends. You asked if I would be okay meeting outside of work. You also alluded to the idea that your friends might be treated better - sharing in your success - than an employee who was not your friend. I believe your intention was to illustrate that friendship means a great deal to you, and you want to share your good times with the people who have stuck by your side. I can understand that.
Nevertheless, I have had bosses say similar things to me in the past. They would say we were all equals in the store - not to think of them as a boss. I liked the idea that we had a more casual relationship in the workplace. However, that also became an excuse for terrible behavior later on. Yelling and cursing at me, being terrifying and slamming on desks, calling me names, telling me I wouldn't possibly find work anywhere else, and trash talking my loved ones and personal life - essentially acting like an abusive boyfriend who doesn't want the girl to leave - these are not things bosses should do. These are barely things that friends should do. It's not okay. But because of our more casual relationship, he decided he was allowed to treat me that way because the line of professionalism had been crossed. In his defense, he might not have fully realized how much what he said hurt me, and maybe if he'd known beforehand then he would have vented his anger in another way...
I tell you all this because I want to learn from my past mistakes.
I had said, Yes, we can hang out, but I am nervous. The fact is, you are my boss, and you have power in this situation. That's just the way it is. And I am an anxious person. I worry. A big part of why I use cannabis is to combat these issues without relying on the pharmaceutical industry. W
You can hurt a friend's feelings for some reason, and they could be mad at you for a while. Later, you talk things out and realize you both misunderstood and all is well again. Here, as my boss, I could say the wrong thing and not even mean what you thought I meant and you could really just fire me. You could be in a bad mood, and I could be in a bad mood, and bam, there goes my livelihood right out the door. Even now, while I am trying to be as sincere, open, and professional as I can be writing this letter, the truth is that you could be upset and I will find some punishment waiting for me at work. You are my boss, and you are in control of my ability to house, feed, clothe, and sustain myself. My survival depends on this job, and keeping this job depends on you (and L---, S---, and S---). The idea makes me horrifically anxious. The possibility alone makes me scared to mess up, and worse, scared to correct (grammatically) you or anyone else in the office (which is part of my job) - essentially it makes me too scared to be myself.
Simply, the power dynamic is too imbalanced.
I hope you won't take any of this personally. It's not about anybody being a good or bad guy, or a trustworthy person - this is about situational power. I also just met you and everyone else at the dispensary. It takes me a long time to trust - to develop a rapport - that's just how I am with everyone. It takes me a while to get used to things and everything is new for me right now. I'm not saying we can't consider each other friends, but at least until I've been there for a couple months and I get used to my new environment and all the dynamics at play, maybe we should maintain a friendly distance when it comes to hanging out after work or choosing to develop a more personal relationship. Or, at the very least, allow things to grow as they may.
I want to do good work for [the dispensary]. I want to help you guys create a streamlined image and a solid reputation. I want to help get through all the paperwork, data entry, design, and organizational tasks that no one else wants to do or has time to do. I am a champ at stuff like that, and completing those tasks makes me feel good about myself. I've poured a lot of heart into everything I've been assigned so far. Now that I have the intake procedure down, I expect things to only get better from here. I want to grow with your business - I want to do my part in ensuring [the dispensary's] success. I am hopeful for Thursday's sales. I care and I am invested. I just don't know if it's a good idea to mark ourselves as friends and throw away all that is associated with a more professional boss/employee relationship.
The best thing I read on the subject said: "Your boss should be a mentor, yes. Friend, no."
I believe in finding a solution that might make everyone happy. How does being a mentor sound to you?
I hope all is well, and I look forward to your reply,
L."
He replied:
"Dear Laura, you're absolutely right and I choose to be your mentor if you allow me. We're very proud to have you here at [the dispensary] and looking forward to progress all of us together in this wonderful journey.
Thank you and see you tomorrow.
Kind regards,
S---"
October:
I'm not telling the whole story here, but my hours were cut after the first couple weeks, and I was told to look for another part-time job (after I'd quit the hotel gig with their approval in order to dedicate all my time to them). By October 16th they had laid me off "due to lack of available work".
After I collected my last paystub - thankfully M came with me - I applied for unemployment. I had my waiting week, and then was paid for two weeks, interviewing in the meantime.
Just a little before Halloween, I quit smoking weed.
M had inspired me as he had quit drinking, and I felt so low about the whole dispensary debacle I thought maybe it was time.
His band also had a show at his guitarist's house that week.
They sounded wonderful and I was happy for him.
At least he was living his dreams.
I smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in the course of 5 hours.
I was going to dress up as Scully, but I'd found out I had a job interview at a community center the next day.
On the way to that, running to catch the right bus, I threw up on a tree along 5th avenue.
I didn't get the job.
November:
I'd been hanging out with W a little bit off and on. He got a new job downtown.
Missed smoking weed so bad, so I tried getting drunk instead.
It didn't turn out too well.
*
Was called in for an interview for a Day Porter gig.
7:30am to 4:30pm Monday through Friday
As per unemployment law, I couldn't turn down a job offer without a really, really good reason.
I took the job.
The job itself is easy - I just tidy up things people could slip on - leaves, sink water - and they're paying me $13 an hour. I'm getting used to the people, and if you read that e-mail above, I've already explained that it takes me a while to do that. I have concerns about some things, but I don't want to put my job in jeopardy, so at least for now I'll just have to deal.
It would be such a relief to find myself in something that felt right, and positive, and where I needed to be.
For thanksgiving they told me I'd have the day AND black friday off as paid holidays. I was astounded and asked if they were sure about three times.
I spent the holiday with M and N and W and R and N's mom and MAJ and I was glad and grateful and happy.
I went into work on Monday and they said actually, no, I was under 90 days so I didn't have those benefits yet. My boss and co-worker felt bad about that and gave me $100 in cash - he said "this is a gift. you don't have to pay it back."
They've given me a $120 coat and $44 fleece they bought from Columbia for $70 (and were reimbursed, but it was still a surprise) and they've bought me a December bus pass.
I was just waiting out the days until my first paycheck, even though I knew it would only really cover rent.
December:
December 4th - payday and rent was due
I signed up for direct deposit upon being hired three weeks prior.
Yet, on Friday, there was nothing in my account.
They cut a check in-house and by 3pm I was able to go deposit it in the bank.
Luckily, my building manager said it'd be fine if it took until Monday.
Obviously, no matter what job you do, you're doing it to get paid.
When that's tampered with it's kind of like, what's the fucking point?
The day ended well, though. My boss came over to my apartment and helped me push some salvaged chair cushion into the gaps letting air into my place as if the window were simply wide open. It was a trust exercise, I think. They've talked a lot at work about the last guy who had my job. They've said he worked for a month and took the keys, and the phone, and just left. When they tried to find him, he didn't live where he said he lived. So here, new-boss, look. This is where I live. Look around. This is how much I have. Look at the gaps in the windows, they're exactly as bad as I had described them. No exaggeration. Not vying for your pity. Just telling it how it is. And he did help me. Put caulking in the smaller cracks. Found the bigger gaps to fill with foam. Maybe now things will change at work - maybe now they'll trust me a little bit - and maybe now I'll even get paid when I expect to get paid and they can stop testing me.
In other areas of life: My sister started working in a 24/7 house caring for two women with disabilities. She's putting on a brave face, and I'm proud of her for making a change, but I wish she could be happy and fulfilled as well. My dad had his top teeth taken out and is stressed, but has a court date to determine his disability re-eligibility in January. I hope he gets it so he can start focusing on other parts of his life. My mom seems okay, but keeps talking about a pain in her side and I've been pushing her to see a doctor. No one else in my family really talks to me, but I think of them from time-to-time.
A moved back to Maine in June. We check-in, but it's rare and short when we do. Haven't seen W for a few weeks. D, my boss from the hotel, hung out with me for a little while. E visited from Seattle and it was nice to see her. Another college friend, Me, visited for a bit as well. Reconnected with K and G for a minute - I hope they know I'll always love them. I've told M how much he means to me, but I don't know if he really understands.
I had wanted to write a book before I turned 26.
I didn't.
I did make progress though.
I have to believe these things take their own amount of time.
My dad thinks I should leave everything and go hike the Appalachian Trail.
I've just been sticking my head in the sand about a lot of things, and now that I've stopped smoking weed, it's even harder to numb out from the uncertainty I have with every aspect of my life.
Here's to hoping 2016 is a whole lot fucking better.
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