The Royal Gang That Parted Ways

As we walked, I asked him what happened in the OBG group and why they broke up. And asked him if he was in any gang. If he isn't, we could make a family of our own. Then he said that would be a great idea, but he said he's done with that gang stuff. This was because of the incident that happened in the OBG group, and I knew I wasn't a suitable leader for a group like this, anyway.

All he has left is himself and me. Which I have gone to as well. He didn't had anyone else in his life anymore ever since. But it's a good thing he has me now. And it's a good thing I have him.

Then, I asked him where he gets his weed, and maybe we could buy some. He told me he has a known connection. And I asked him if he had any money and I could share some. He told me he had some money, but I didn't need to give anything to him. He'll share some for free.

That's how kind he is, and that's why I love him. He's easy to manipulate, and he has a soft spot for me because of how kind I was to him back then. But I was genuinely kind to him back then, too, until today.

Then, he took out a bag of weed, and I was surprised he actually had some! He even has his own custom pipe as well. Then, I told him where we could smoke it. We could go to the public cemetery in Betis, and we did.

We smoked the devil's lettuce all day in that cemetery, and he even treated me with some food, as he still had some money left. Then, the day ended by 5 PM. I knew I had to go back home. He had already left, and I went back home.

* * *

"So, that's what happened on the first day. You seem to be enjoying it. But why are you here if you already love your life?" Samantha, my psychiatrist, asked as I was lying down on the chaise longue.

"Because it makes me feel better for someone to accept my true dark nature after pretending to be someone I'm not 24/7 in front of everyone. It fills the empty void of my heart and soul. It's madness, really."

"I think that's the only time we have left. Let's meet up next week?"

"Sure. Maybe after your shift next week, I could buy you a drink."

"I don't drink. Although, out of all my patients, you're the most interesting one I feel attached to. I really am obsessed with extreme behaviours, which is why I studied psychology. But you're different. You're beyond that.

And you should start acting like yourself instead of pretending to be someone you're not just to be a people-pleaser. Sooner or later, you'll lose your true self and have an identity crisis. That way, you'll find the real people that actually accept you for who you truly are. I love your personality, and you should not waste it just for people to love your fake identity.

That's why you have an empty void in your soul. It's not filled up by the love of the people you know, because they love the mask instead of the true you. You should not think about what others think of you, just be yourself. Okay?"

"Thanks, doc. Or should I say Mrs Robillos?" I winked at her.

"Well, I'm not married yet. Maybe we could arrange that. But seriously, that's all the time we have left. Please leave the office."

I politely left after I paid for my appointment. Then, I entered back into the world of Los Angeles, California. Where weed is legal?

I headed home to my shitty apartment, where I still hadn't paid my rent, and I was about to be kicked out if I didn't pay next week. I sighed at this problem. I really have inadequate impulse control where I spend most of my money on weed just to calm me down ever since my psychiatrist broke up with me, and I never had medications anymore.

My brother booked me a flight to North Carolina, but I chose to move into Los Angeles of California because marijuana is legal for recreational use. And of course, because of my exposed influence to GTA V. Los Santos is a place where Los Angeles of California literally looks like. The expensive imported palm trees, the city life, the city lights, and the city streets. Everything about this city is my dream. But inside my own home is the complete opposite. It's dirty, a whole mess of a wreck. Wretched. Water leaks in the ceiling, the bathroom toilet isn't still fixed by a plumber where I can't flush. Cigarette filters are everywhere on the ground.

It's dark and gloomy here, really. It ruins my mind seeing it, even just thinking about it. Every time I look into the mirror. I see someone that's not me anymore. I don't know who I am anymore. Am I a narcissistic manipulator who has grandiose self-worth? Or a kind empath where my former bullies used to take advantage of? Which is the facade, and which is the true identity? Because it's either that I'm a really nice guy that didn't want this and was just mentally unstable because of my shitty past.

And using psychopathy as a dissociated alter for a self coping mechanism to protect me from former bullies that haunt me in my dreams and waking life to this day, despite how it's already all over? Or is it the other way around that I am a sociopath that pretends to be a good person just to be loved by everyone because I know everyone hates me for being mentally unstable? Which is it really?

I punched the mirror, causing it to break, making it crack and fall down. There was no mirror anymore, but I could still see my distorted reflection in where the mirror was. Then, a knock on my door was heard.

I went to go to it and open it. It was my ugly fat landlord hearing the noise. He went inside to check to find out I had broken the bathroom mirror. He told me if I couldn't pay for it right now, along with the rent, I would never pay for months. He will kick me out right now. I sighed. I wanted to kill him, but my repressed rage was kept inside, trying my best not to snap. I told him I was leaving today. I just need a moment to pack everything and return to North Carolina.

So, I left after packing my bags. Say goodbye to weed. With withdrawal symptoms, I will start dissociating more than I usually do.