Been thinking about Rohinga lately… not sure yet why… it’s not the side effects of the Ibogaine… but I think the drug… I mean I think the treatment is working… Tijuana is nice… the weather is nice this time of year… everyone in here has been so nice and so kind ever since I got here yesterday… I think they’ll let me out of my room tomorrow… my window is nice, I find it fine… I like the light coming in from the sunshine day… a cool white day, clouds in the sky… smoke… I can’t see the sun but I’m grateful… I’m singing… and I’m praying always to Vivian to restore my Internet access… please don’t be like the others and sneaker by me… please don’t be like the others and sneaker upon me… when I’m weak… when I’m still weak… when I’m still so so weak…
I’m coming to my senses lately and realizing my path in life has been one of fraud, deceit, and deception… I’m surfacing to the edge of the abyssal evil that consumes me every day in my current-slash-former profession and I’ve seen so much blood and so much chaos and carnage, I’ll never forget you and I’ll never get better and you can’t fix me… you can’t fix me… you can’t fix me in this wretched establishment… perhaps I shouldn’t have trusted a recommendation I got secondhand from The Joe Rogan Experience… sometimes I don’t get you… often I don’t even get myself sometimes, so… I guess we’re even… I hope I’m not talking crazy… or worse, sounding crazy… just please don’t talk to me ever again…
I’m going to be here another week and I’m scared… I’m scared… I’m scared that I’ll become like Shelley Duvall… don’t watch her on Dr. Phil in 2016… don’t watch it… don’t watch her because it’s a sadness… it’s a great sadness… representing the whole, but only a part… it can’t be overstated… this is a sickness… this is a sickness, a deep sickness… only to be remedied by herbs, purity… a good soul… shoes, maybe?… no, unnecessary… we won’t need them… the clouds… the silence… the sonics…
And then maybe high in the air we could rejoice and get better, recover… stay fit… I can see a future still for us yet… no more ignoring internet friends, foes… saying hi, tipping always (not that I didn’t, even deep undercover), trying to smile politely. I could’ve refused the services of a million architects and prevented the construction of [REDACTED] but I wasn’t willing to invest any more energy into it. I used to be a baby chick, and one day I will be again, somewhere else. Far away or nearby. I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. Noel is perverted.
—Follow Monica Quibbits on Twitter: @MonicaQuibbits