Jake Farley Journals

March 17, 2024.

She said writing my thoughts down might help me with my recovery and maybe understand better what is going on.

Suffice to say, I am not cut out for this, but I will try my best.

Over a year ago what transpired at Boston would cause me to hide for the rest of my life.

Instead, I casually walked away with all the cash and the credit card machine.

It was too easy.

It was warranted though I kept saying to myself.

But, most importantly it was sad.

I am the only person paying attention to what is going on. I am not making jokes, I am not getting high, and I am not here as the lackey punchline any longer. I literally roll my eyes at the boss sometimes but still hide it because God knows what is really going on behind that weird smile of his.

Max Jail???

WHY!?!?

We have already gone down this road and were left with tears and some money. Do we have to go through this again because that is what is expected of us?

It isn’t funny to me anymore.

Is it because I have been clean for a year and half?

Is it because I fear of what might happen?

I was told being paranoid was a result of the chronic but maybe in my case it resulted in me not understanding anything.

Anybody that knows me but say 'duh,' to that.

Now, I look under my car before I drive us somewhere.

Now, I look under his bed before he sleeps.

Not because he asks.

But in those rare times I can see thoughts churning behind his eyes, I see someone who is more than what he was but less of who he is, and I WANT to protect him. It is my turn now.

Now, I must be the voice of reason.

Now, I must make the hard decisions and if that makes me look like a traitor then that is what I will become. He will forgive me in the end because what I do is for our survival just like going back to America and who we are---was his.

When the show ended.

I found who I needed to talk to.

I promised we would meet again, and an envelope would be handed over.

For him.

For us.

For the future.

For IHOPS?

Ugh, now I am hungry.

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