Written on 4/16 at around 9 p.m.

So, I’m at Starbucks now, feeling like I’m where I belong again. It’s good recognizing your own life. As good as it is to be ecstatic about newfound love, it’s nice to remember where you’ve come from, and not feel depressed about it. I like my life just fine, I actually am okay alone. I remember writing down, and being fairly honest with myself in saying I am relatively well equipped to live a life alone. I’m sitting here smoking a cigar (albeit a cheap one), drinking a coffee, and writing on my laptop with no one beside me. I’m fine with that.

Here’s an idea, why don’t I live as I know I should? In particular, the thought that come to mind right now is that with this girl who called me, though I’m somewhat interested, I should do as others do, and seek out other female company. Don't let yourself become too attached, don't pursue too much. This is not a novel concept, it’s just new to me.

Interesting, I hear more groups of students, attractive girls and trendy guys. They sit and talk of relationships and new upstart bands. They pat each others back for "clever" uses of obscenity and rather poor uses of analogy. At least they know what an analogy is.

Will I do it again? Who knows. If I fall for a girl like her, truly close to my equal in books read, philosophy expanded and expounded, will I have to accept her strong willed disregard for my feelings at times?

So quickly, despite the lovely weather and heady excitement of writing, I long to be with people again, to develop friendships, to listen to someone’s stories and watch their eyes dance at the exciting parts. I want to hear Gerald from Andrew’s house tell another story, as loudly and colorfully as he can. I want to hear somebody’s heartfelt sadness and depression, and tell them that at least they have our friendship. I should be comfortable alone, but I’m not. I asked for people to call me, but they haven’t.

-It wasn't supposed to make sense, I was in the very middle of confusion.