As a friend, I don't know what my responsibility is to you. I want to see you grow, change, move past the pain and trauma of the past. But you don't want to do that. You want to stay stuck and hurt. Possibly for the rest of your life. I can't change you and yet I can't walk away. I hate seeing you like this and don't know what's next for our friendship.

Addicted to confessions. My secret shame. Life without daily confession updates isn't life at all. Awaiting your sweet word juice...

In so called 'primitive' societies there is a hut where women on the rag hang out and I was thinking we could use BC Place stadium for this since it just sits there empty most of the time.

It may be a cliche at this point. But its so nice to be single after years spent in relationships. Sure i miss intimacy and regular sex, but i am free to do as a please. Honestly, its too easy to get wrapped up in another person’s life while neglecting your own. Im gonna enjoy this time and not rush into anything. Time to take some vacations and enjoy some new experiences.

Well known fact: 90% of women are only interested in about 10% of men. Basically, this means that nearly all women are chasing a very small number of desirable men, leaving 90% of men out in the cold, battling each other for scraps. Fortunately for me I am in the top 10% and I have women throwing themselves at me all the time. I don't have to do anything, they approach me and beg me to go home with them. They get all giddy and smiley and excited. Nice life being in the top 10%. But I don't take advantage of it as much as I could. I guess I am just a one-woman guy.

My boyfriend lost his job yesterday and I don't know if we can go on. The bills are going to start piling up and its not fair for me to have to pay them all. I don't even think I can pay them all. Were struggling to make ends meet. I am going to move back in with my mom and dad.

Went to a drugstore to buy a basic face wash. I did not check the price because it looked like any other generic plastic bottle of suds. I scanned it: $23 before tax. Oh my! I left it at the store. It is insane leaving the house these days to face the world outside!

Almost five years ago, I hooked up with this young beautiful chick. We both met in downtown Vancouver and went for a walk to one of the local dispensaries. Her apartment was located between Davie Street and English Bay. We both puffed on four strong sativas and had the most amazing intense sex. We played it bareback and she told me she had been on the pill. We never saw each other again after that so it was basically a hook up. Not sure if she’s pregnant with my child. Maybe I have a kid somewhere around the world or even on the Island that I probably don’t know about. One thing is for sure, though. If she needs anything from me, then she’ll contact me. If not, chances are I won’t see, or hear from her ever again. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I came to the realization recently that I have a lot of stuff filling up my life, books records, knickknacks, things that represent a past I no longer live in and probably will never revisit again. Why do I keep this stuff, in case I get nostalgic in my old age? Do I really need to hold on to that stuffy an ex, who hasn't been my life for 20 years, gave me? That Midnight Oil CD that's collecting dust on the shelf? There's just so much of it, I don't know where to begin. And no, don't mention Marie Kondo, I find her annoying. Let the great purge begin!

I confess that I just don’t get why some people seem so dense about how their behaviour affects other people. There’s this group of people in my neighbourhood who get together to play games, probably like D & D or something, and they always have their patio door wide open for hours as they scream and laugh and all talk and shout at once. They’re so loud that we can’t hear our tv and forget about trying to sleep. I just don’t get why they’re so inconsiderate. Can’t they just close the door or something. If you say anything to people like that they call you a karen but the obnoxious ones are them, not the person who’s finally had enough.