_moonbeam_

I want to roll around in freshly fallen leaves with you. I want to lay in the dirt and cuddle - basking in the smell of the warm soil. I want to fall asleep under the stars, and wake up to you there sleeping... drops of dew dancing on your eyelashes, and me devouring your wondrous cock. You make me happier than you'll ever know.

My house smells like what I'd imagine a pot dispensary to smell like. My mom has harvested her plants, and there are random buds - at least I think that's what they're called - hanging up to dry. I don't so much mind the smell. I pretty much think I'm used to it by now, and there's no contact high... I'm pretty sure I past that phase a long while ago. Probably before I was even born. I worry that the smell gets into everything else, and that when I go out in public, I smell like pot, but no one is brave enough to bring it up to me. So if I smell like weed, will you please let me know? I can't really wear perfume, unless of course I want my head to explode. It's all sort of a fucked if I do fucked if I don't sort of thing. I have my own space, which is nice, but I'm ready to be completely by myself. I need a cave somewhere, where no one can find me unless I really want to be found.

I'm worried about a friend of mine, and she's aware that I'm concerned for her, but that's about as far as it has gone. I don't want to waste anymore time and energy on it because she doesn't seem to want to do whats needed to right the situation. She's settling. She knows that she's settling. And she's okay with that. It makes me sad, but again, I'm not going to concern myself anymore. When she's ready to stop falling down her rabbit hole, I'll be there to catch her. Until then, she'll have to deal with watching rainbows crumble and unicorns prancing about with blood drenched horns. You can't want whats best for someone else, They have to want to have it for themselves.