gotta be real. gotta say this sandi. u r an addict again. fuck me. i am dead woman.
every time i go to the mary jane dispensary i am very upbeat and pleasant. i am bubbly. i am playing a part. i laugh alot. i have an infectious laugh. i saw one young guy in his 20s smile when i laughed. i am a southern belle. charming the males. a handsome island dude working behind the counter is charming right back. i tell him to recommend a strength of smoke to deaden emotional pain. and aches and pains of depression. sativa he says. he is cute and sweet and makes sure he gives me a 5% discount. makes sure he shows me just how he stapled the bag just exactly in the middle. he is in his late 20s early 30s? he tells me as i go that we are all bipolar. that we all live in stress and that we have to forget the past and don't worry about the future. just live in the now i said that i would try that. i had heard this before from jesus and buddha. not a bad team, right? i am classic bipolar. up and down. in and out. outside in.. i said earlier i would contemplate suicide over salad. close. appetizer. but as we were leaving for my date to take me home, i said to him that i am being mindful of the night and the atmosphere. the full moon, the neon red and green wabi sabi sign. the pretty girl with braided hair and long dress walking down the street. the art gallery next door. i tired to be mindful and thankful for someone coming into my life briefly to let me know i'm wanted. i don' t want him though. that is the problem