I'm not diggin these stories about

weed.

Hash fucking sucks a really large (floppy) donkey penis.

It comes in these little black bars (I thought it was heroin at first) and is the shitty. Yes "the shitty." when somebody says something like, "Fuck my morning was pretty shitty,"-even though they don't know it-they are talking about the feeling of smoking hash after growing up with on best weed around (California not included). You really can't even smoke it straight (we have no bowl). You have to sprinkle it on tobacco and then roll.

In short I have not been high since the morning (technically) of my departure and Nick's ramblings make me homesick. It has gotten so bad I have started smoking cigs to beat the cravings. Yes that's right I'm going through withdrawal. Which means, OfCourse, that I recently was an addict.

That's right I admit it, I was addicted, and frankly I don't care. I was addicted to sweet sweet Mary Jane. And—Oh God—I miss her.

If she’d only come back to me I know I could change. I’ll be a better person—I swear it. I’ll spend more time at home with her and the kids. I’ll be more sensitive to her needs. I’ll try to get along with her friends, and wont call them derogatory names in front of her.

I’ll even wash the goddamn dishes.

I’m sorry about seeing my ex, Stacy, but Mary—you know I love you. (Beginning to cry) We had a life together, and—Jesus Crist—I need you so badly.

I…. I did my best… god… I did my best….

I did my…