15 December 2002

I'm STILL feeling a little weird, off and on, from the effects of that damned cookie.

I'm still extremely angry, too. Hey, I'm all for legalization of whatever, and responsible distribution and stuff. I mean, if you choose to put weird shit in your body to make you get stuck in some curtains, then that's your thing, and I respect it as long as you don't hurt me or anybody else. But the key word there is "choose." I didn't choose to put anything in my body except a cookie. I mean, weed's not all that dangerous or anything, but it's HELL for me. Being stoned truly fucks me up. I've been having nightmares about it since it happened. The last time I got stoned, in August of 2001, I had nightmares for six months. For me, this was just as bad as being dosed with Rohypnol or something. People freak out about THAT sort of thing, but this... oh, it was just my own dumb fault for eating cookies, and no harm was done...

*sigh* You don't have ANY IDEA how much harm was done... Or how much harm COULD have been done... How would YOU like to completely lose your mind, and lose control of most of your body, and not understand anything that's going on in your environment, and be hellishly terrified that everybody's plotting against you, and that your baby's going to die...

Yeah, I'm still pretty mad.

Anyway...

Let's talk about happier things...

* * * * * * * * * * *

Woke up this morning at just about the same instant Jake woke up. We grinned at each other. We told each other mushy stuff. We got it on in his parents' computer room. We decided that pretty much everything in the world was perfect.

...And that, if we've made it this far, through all of this bullshit we've been through in the past two months, we'll probably be fine for a long, long time. Hell, I figured if we made it past our first date without major damage, we'd be doing great. After cops, and lawyers, and jail-food, and insane counselors, and courtrooms, and pregnancy tests in courthouse bathrooms, and finding out via the internet that you're going to be a dad, and morning sickness, and emergency rooms...... I think we'll be okay. Hell, some people break up over what their partner is wearing. Some people have screaming matches over whose turn it is to take the dog out. We're gonna be okay for awhile. I mean, at least until it's time to change diapers. Then, we're probably going to hate each other.

Jake and I discussed this.

And grinned.

And decided that we were both super, super good in bed, and kissed for awhile until Jake's dad came in, standing up very straight, and grinning this big Republican grin, and greeting us with, "Jake, I've got to go up onto the roof and fix something, and you need to get up and hold the ladder!" Ah, the cheery sounds of morning. Jake's parents suppose that he and I are living in sin, so to speak. I believe that when I was very, very stoned, I may have told them it's not true, and that I'm a virgin.

No really, I swear.

Sorta.

Anyway...

I think pretty much everybody else wishes, at this point, that the judge HAD given Jake a no-contact order. Everybody else just thinks we're gross when we're mushy. We probably are. Awww, love.

Anyway...

* * * * * * * * * * *

I'm at work. I should look like I'm doing work-related things. I'm not faking it very well.

Be well...
~Helena*