It started out bad, with Brian. I tried to make up for time lost fighting, and walked around dropping off resumes and asking places if they were hiring. Brian had a doctor's appointment to get more meds, and not a moment too soon, because he was starting to act like he used to. Afterward, we were going to eat or something, but as we were driving, he started getting angry and saying extremely hurtful things. When I defended myself, he got so angry he started yelling and hitting the steering wheel and car window, and I was so scared I made him stop the car and I jumped out and ran away, back to my house. It's not that I was really afraid, but that I suddenly realized that he was just as fucked up as he was before.

I was humoring him during the last few weeks, because he'd said we could hang out "as friends", "no pressure", "if you decide you want to be with me, great, if you decide not to, that's ok too -- I just want what's best for you." But every time I see him it becomes less and less "no pressure", with him begging me to "try to feel something" again, even telling me I'm "selfish". It's not that I don't think I could fake some love for him, but that I don't want to. But I was too much of a softie to tell him to go away for good. I hate hurting people. I left him once, and I never should have let him near me so I had to do it again. If I'd been strong enough to tell him, the car incident wouldn't have happened, but unfortunately I had to wait until things really got out of control. I know he'll call me back and say his meds are working again, so I'll have to be strong and tell him I won't see him at all.

Anyway, so there I was on my front porch, crying. I called Donna and she said she'd meet me at Beuhlahland. We shared nachos and a drink, and she gave me a present -- a necklace with two cats on it, that says, "had to be you" on the other side. We were in a good mood, and we decided to do some of my acid.

So far in my life, my acid consumption has been limited by my finances -- I was never willing to do more than five hits, because even at $3 a piece, it stretched my budget. Unfortunately, a few months ago I had some money to burn and bought twenty hits and have been storing them in my freezer ever since. We started out with five hits each, which would have been fine, but as we were walking around, we agreed that it wasn't as strong as we liked it. So we walked back to my house and took another 2.5 hits each. That was a bad idea.

We took the bus to downtown and walked around watching strange people, talking, and generally had fun, until we ended up at NW 23rd and Kearney. That's when I started getting a headache and feeling nauseous. It was late and cold, and we decided to call a cab home. Just before the cab got there, the nachos from lunch ended up on the sidewalk. I managed to be ok for the ride, during which the cab driver told us about his adventures freebasing cocaine, and I got the strongest sense of deja vu crossing the Burnside Bridge.

Back at Donna's house, we played with the many cats and kittens of various generations, which was fun, except I had to keep running to the bathroom, even after there was absolutely nothing left in my stomach.

When I bought the acid, I asked the guy, "So, what happens if I just eat a TON of acid?" I guess I found out last night.

Eventually I fell asleep on Donna's couch and woke up, miraculously, at 10 am. I felt strangely well-rested and my body and mind were bathed in that sense of peace and calm and warmth that I always feel after doing acid. The only part that annoys me is that I did so much that I wasn't able to spend some time thinking about my life. Usually I use acid as a tool to reevaluate my life, but I was too sick to think about anything very complex.

I washed my face and hopped on the 12 down Sandy and walked down 24th to my favorite coffeeshop. I arrived around 11:30, which is only a little later than when I usually go there. Except this time I was wearing the walk-of-shame outfit of my glittery sweater, eyeliner, and party clothes from the previous night. The barista complimented my glitter, and when I told her why I was still wearing it, she laughed. I got my bagel and coffee and read the paper, and still got home with more than enough time to shower and rest before I have to work at three.

I was so tempted not to show up today, especially after the acid experience, but since I actually woke up and felt ok, I really had no excuse not to go, especially since I need the money. Even if they don't give me enough hours, I can probably cover the next two months rent before I leave for Chicago, and then my job search won't be so frenzied and I won't have to ask anyone for help.