I'll be honest with you... I'm over pot. What was such a huge part of my daily life from about 2006 (and my weekly life from 2002) to 2011 means nothing to me anymore. Every time I think about it, I quickly slip into 'yeah, but look where it got me'.
Yes, it fixed me. It helped. I'm a completely different person yet still exactly the same.
It's really him that I'm over. This whole thing. I'm not making rash decisions, I'm not running, I'm not crapping out on this. I'm continuing and moving forward but I'm pretty sure I won't get back there.
I'm looking at things differently now. I'm not high and whimsical. I'm not dreamy and imagining everything I ever wanted will come to me. I'm awake and aware that this is not what I wanted it to be.
It might seem like a quick change from all of my lovey dovey stuff I wrote not so long ago. But it was a slow and gradual change. That culminated with my phone hitting the wall. Along with the shit. And when he swore he wouldn't be here when I came home from work, I was glad. Now I can't let that go.
The things he said about me. The way he throws my very soul back in my face when he is mad at me. Or mad at himself, or mad at the world. I still get it. But I don't understand, he says. He had a very bad childhood. It's very hard for him to trust. It's very hard for him to give in. But me and I know the truth now.
I'm as invisible here as I ever was. I just looked at my reflection in him and thought it was enough. It isn't enough. I don't think it's too much to ask to be acknowledged when I walk through the door. To be touched. To feel as if I matter. Not his desperate attempt to win me, to be heard and seen and to be important. To be understood.
It all comes down to that, I guess. It always has.
To be visible. To be understood.
