I guess this message comes from a heart broken daughter. Half drunk and half stoned. You'd be happy, proud I'd dare say. I remember you coming into my room as I took a few hits, taking a deep breath with a silly smile on your face, you loved the smell. I remember you bitching about how medicinal pot never gave you that good old punch you remembered. Why did you never smoke out with me knowing you would never get caught? All you did was get a contact high. I feel cheated never knowing how you were high, or ever drunk, dad. How would you feel knowing your kid has 2 closets set up for weed and plans on getting the license asap? How would you feel knowing she smokes on a daily basis? Probably proud, giving the hippy you were. And given our pot head family, whom I love and adore. I'm nothing compared to them, sadly.
So here I sit, stoned, drunk, bored. Just another night right? My plants are safe and sound and I'm using my stash for medicinal only as I am one of few that needs it. Not one of the few that wants it. Dad, if anything, would be proud. Deep down, I'm a bloody hippy. No way around that and no reason to deny it. Fuck all who says otherwise.
Nights like this I think it's a good thing my father passed away before I became an adult. He didn't have to see my struggles. My treatment outside of suburbia life. Just how hard it is “in real life.” Gods knows theres a reason why I've thought “hey, if I show my titties, I'd make bank!” I mean, 34E?! They'd get good money, right?! And with my white girl, yet black girl ass?! More money there babies! Really, 43” inches of pure bubble butt, with no problems. Come on guys?! It's begging for anal right? There's a reason why I've considered web cams when I loose a good 30 pounds. And fuck you all saying we need more “real womans bodies” out there. This tummy, is not a womans body.
I hate the fact my father died but I'm thankful he never saw this phase. Of getting jobs, then loosing them. Of freelance, then struggle. Of stressing over rent, then nothing. Of considering the sex industry just to make ends meet. On the other hand, people say the wrong parent died. I could never say this. Yes, my mom is a bitch, but I love her. Yes, I know my rent would be paid for now. I wouldn't starve. My father would stand by me. And I hate it ever minute of my life knowing this. But my mother, as much of a bitch she is, I could never turn my back on her. And I hate it more than knowing my own father is dead and will never see my success. That alone, tears me up inside.
God how I hate nights like this.
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