You probably laced it with shit you fucking weirdo.

It’s official he’s back. He’s been back for a week but last night was the first time we encountered each other face to face.

Apparently the people in the trap house kicked him out. Then his girlfriend decided she didn’t want to live with him anymore. Which, if drug dealers don’t want to live with you, shouldn’t that tell you all you need to know? Maybe I’m being unfair to the drug dealers.

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And he bought everyone in the house gifts, including me (a bag of candy) like the classic fucking sociopath he is. He wrote me a note saying that he hopes we can be friends, um no we can’t greg.

I bought new locks for my bedroom door. I’m ok.

I’m still here cause I’m going back to school and I need the cheap rent, and Atlanta housing prices have skyrocketed,(Thanks LA people and gentrification!)

But if everything goes my way, I’m out of here in the next year and a half.

And I’ve rationalized that in the event, I could fuck greg up in one good knock to the head.

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Also writing and documenting these Greg stories, for me, has taken a lot of the power and fear away from him. So thank you GT and I hope you will continue to allow me to write them.