Joints and Anniversary, Dear?

I wanna do an article because it’s been a while, and I want it to be about my lovely Polish aspie girlfriend because she’s become a source of duty to me to the extent that I’m devoted to her well-being. I can see no relinquishing myself from this duty within my plausible lifetime. It’s a fukkin’ Article 29. As far as I’m concerned, death will do us part and nothing else. Here’s a science fiction author:

Love is the condition in which the happiness of another person becomes essential to your own.

–Robert A Heinlein

I think with a duty towards someone else’s well-being, comes the responsibility of granting space when it is necessary, and the comfort of care when it is not. I learned that from my mother in the sense of; my mother cared about her own desires to be recognized and acknowledged as caring more than she actually cared. I hated her intrusive behaviors, and now I need the personal territory of a humbly sized European country to establish my god damn allegorical alien embassy for an ego. Thanks mom! Everyone loves my ego, especially my aspie girlfriend.

American Gothic. As best we can.

I’m not sure what I could write about my playfully creative girlfriend which wouldn’t clearly distinguish her as someone entirely separate and completely segregated from the archetypal The Mother in my mind. I’m glad we’re in Jungian territory and not quite Freud. I’m more than a primordial tubething.

Anyway my girlfriend is recently facing a grand amount of stress from our encounter: I ran away from the nazi control facilities to be with her and smoke marijuana on our anniversary this year, the 27th of November. Let’s just call it an anniversary and not the day we started fucking. It sounds better that way. Also it was clearly mostly to see my love, and not only the marijuana. True story.

Needless to say, I’ve been arbitrarily arrested without a judicial warrant, cutting our anniversary short. I’m now under captivation by a level-2 nazi control facility, and thus I face my punishment with the double doors and inward-pointing fences.

However,

I have yet to get a syringe up my ass by force this time. What gives? I had one scheduled and yet all I had to do to avoid it yesterday was politely decline. (so far) I’ll say…

I’m certain the nazis will put it up my ass eventually no matter what, but somehow the signs of improvement are showing. The staff are more respectful, less intrusive, and certainly a lot less rapey and sadistic. Perhaps it’s my whistleblowing then? Could it be that polite and civil resistance to totalitarian nazi behavior is actually the correct response strategy? We’ll see.

I guess all the bullshit we went through on our anniversary has somehow paid off though, even if I am to blame for her stress.

I love her, what can I say?