You have no friends but yourself when it comes down to brass tacks
Ever realize the truth of being alone in the crowd? I shoulda known better is all I can say. Shoulda left the party and went home. There is no way I shoulda gone to a club with a bunch of people I can barely tolerate and one person who was supposed to be my friend. Well at least the truth is out. No one in that group is a friend of mine. I'm strangely comfortable with this realization, actually. Better the devil you know I always say.

There is nothing to clear your mind, sober you up, and hurt your feet like a five kilometre walk at two thirty am in four degree weather while wearing chrismas party dress clothes including four inch high heeled, strappy sandal style shoes. Oh well.

There are two things that bother me in this world. Hypocrits and pussies. My god! If you couldn't care less if you ever saw me again, why not tell me so? Or at the very least tell me you have other plans, or your car is full. Don't allow me to go someplace with you and then ignore me. I'd rather know up front my company isn't needed or desired and go home. Really. I would. True story. Because when you're like 'oh whatever' and then because I'm very in tune to those around me and what they're thinking I figure out you couldn't care less if you ever saw me again I do something stupid like walk home alone at two thirty am when I live five kilometres away from the place we're at.

I'm still cold and it ain't just about the weather neither. But I'll get over it. Again, true story. But damned if I'll ever look at any of them like a friend again. I never use to hold a grudge but I damn sure do now. And will continue to do so until I up and move away and none of these people matter one iota anymore. I can't wait to forget them all. Some more than others.

It's bed time for me now. I plan to sleep until I wake up. I will then drag myself through yet another day of studious indifference. Funny how easy it has become to force a smile, find a laugh, and convice them all that I'm fine.

Fine is very relative.