High me thinks this is a great idea. Except that I have a bottle of Topo Chico sitting RIGHT NEXT TO MY LAPTOP. Oh dear cat, I’m such an anxious nerd. Even high on, I had to get up to look at the box to remember the name of it, Apple Jack. But before I made it back to my computer, I decided to take a photo of my son’s Mario Doll. But not just a photo of my son’s Mario Doll, a photo of him eating pudding to send to my son’s dad’s phone so he could show my son. Not only that, but I then decided that I need to eat a snack. It’s only 11am, but maybe an early lunch type snack. So, I made frozen waffles. While they were cooking in the microwave, yes, the microwave, I sang a song to my cat. Because I had decided that I didn’t need a fork this time, I would then sing to my cat a song that went like this, “I don’t need no fork! I don’t need no fo-ork! I don’t need no fork!” My cat did not appreciate this song. When I finally came back to my computer, I noticed that after all of that, I didn’t bother to move my Topo. Also, I technically forgot the name of the strain I was smoking and had to go look at the box ONE MORE TIME until just now. Now it’s time for sticky fingers covered in honey.
I didn't want to have to confess to this stranger that I have a condition called dissociative identity disorder (formerly known as multiple personality disorder), that causes me to live in separate parts of my identity, so I let him finish. Except that he wasn't done, he kept going, and going, and going. It was as if he hadn't had sex in 10 years and he was celebrating. In my vagina. In my head, I thought, "I could just tell him that I'm tired." But I couldn't bring myself to say a word. I was embarrassed. No, I was humiliated. And I was in too deep because of my other part’s behavior at this point. This turned into a long night of unwanted sex, and it wasn't his fault at all. It was my fault, or rather, my other part's fault.