Breaking Up With Mary Jane Is Hard To Do
But so is giving in to addiction
There was nothing momentous about that day. I hadn’t even planned this day. It’s not like I knew my last joint was going to be my last joint. Addiction doesn’t really work like that — at least not for me anyways.
It was just another morning, until seeing the roach in the sink after it stewed in the red wine glass overnight grossed me out, as described in The Roach At The Bottom Of The Wine Glass.
Somehow the stench of it all is what set me off. The smell of red wine vinegar and ash caressing the sink was enough to turn me off.
Maybe I realized that Prince Charming wasn’t so charming after all, like the Paper Bag Princess who dumped Ronald. Or maybe it was like when I was 14 years old, and my father fell from grace when I discovered he smoked pot.
I must have been so naive to believe that he was smoking cigarettes. Once I started to see friends smoking marijuana, I wasn’t so sure anymore, and eventually, it became obvious that he smoked it, so I hated marijuana.
I hated that Mary Jane seemed to come everywhere with him. I hated that she seemed to come everywhere with us. I hated that he seemed to choose her over me. I hated that I felt betrayed. I hated that I had to discover the truth on my own.
