I got home

I got home last night and fell asleep on my couch. I woke up to a ringing phone. It was Barb. We talked a little about her dad, then she asked me to dinner. We made small talk and joked around a little. It was like old times. These were the times with her that I miss. Sure, there was a lot of bad stuff I went through with her, but a lot of good too. Last night was one of the good times, and it will be stored in the archives.

I went home and made a few phone calls to a few friends. I listened to some Who and Pink Floyd and fiddled on the internet for a while.

I spent the rest of the night feeling like a piece of shit. I hate being the source of people's problems. It's the worst feeling in the world for me. That and jealousy. Those are the worst. Unfortunately, I'm also the type who likes to take the blame for all the world's troubles, whether I admit it or not. Those 2 traits don't go together very well, as I'm sure you can imagine.

I laid in bed for a good 3 or 4 hours, listening to the annoying thumping of the apartment upstairs and thinking about what a horrible person I am, and how there's been so much in my life that I should have done differently. It was a fun night.

Look, I'm saying things I haven't said since I was an angst ridden 16 year old. This is pathetic.