In the backseat of the truck, Cam is driving and some homeless dude is in the passenger side. Cam has been driving around for the last two maybe three hours trying to find someone to ask about where to find them or how to or what. And he did. He found some guy and he asked him and sat there and convinced him to take him to meet someone. I’m afraid he’s going to pull out a gun on us and rob us. Is that bad?
I almost just lied, damn. I started typing something that I knew was not true. But I wanted to make the situation seem better than it actually is… which is shitty. I almost did the one thing I promised not to do. I am so cared and so sketched out.
Cam says he’s hoping to get suboxone, that the guy might know where to get them. I think I’m gonna be sick. I refused to get down the truck, so I’m here with the two of them. I mean where would I even go you know? The guy actually talked to me. And he seemed respectful.
I’m typing this as it happens by the way. Like this is happening today, right now, as I type. We are here. Ugh. All I can think of is, what I could be doing if I had dated that kid that wanted to be a doctor when I went to college, or if I had made it work with Cortland or anyone else that seemed or showed interest at all at any point of my life.
We are in some sketchy mobile home park, and we are just sitting here, waiting for the guy to come back. I don’t even feel mad, I feel like I’ve been here before, getting mad or upset isn’t going to help anything. Leave is what I need to do. Forget about workamping, forget about trying to make shit work. I need to leave. I don’t know why I stay, I don’t know why I’m here.