On slow nights like these, I take out the glue stick and the old magazines and I cut up pictures and I make notecards. Doesn't matter if I ever write to you on them, there's a purpose to it, and that's all that matters. I used to make bookmarks too, back when I had my 96 Crayola box set. I made you one and I was going to send it to you but I lost the envelope.

In between making notecards and watching TV, I take the time to rock out to old CDs. Do you ever dig through your cases, hoping to find a random CD that you stuck there while driving and you didn't want it to get scratched stuffed between notebook paper and loose change? I finally invested in one of those CD holder thingies, I don't know how I've lived without one. Watch me switch from Madonna to Moving Units with such ease!

Yeah, you know I'm just trying to occupy my mind, that I'm keeping myself busy. From ... you know. It's summer outside, but it's not. I had a feeling it was going to rain tomorrow and I was right to grab the umbrella from the car. But not the keys, I forgot about them again. I miss living on the ground floor sometimes; I remember breaking in my room through the window one night during one of our parties, it was that easy. Why was I outside during my own party? I don't know.

So plans changed and I didn't go home this weekend. I feel like such a shit. There's no worse feeling than guilt. But at the same time ... I'm glad, you know? I'd still like to grasp on to the belief that things happen for a reason and all that blahblahbullshit. In my head, I had everything worked out, I didn't think it would have such repercussions. What is this thing about anyway, maturity? I'm twenty-two years old but I still have to tell my parents, basically ask their permission, if I change my mind about going home?

That's the thing, too. Home isn't home anymore. It's just a house, it's not something I look forward to coming "home" to. Maybe it's because of what had happened? I don't know. A friend said that it generally brings families together, and it is to a certain degree, but I find myself alienating, er, myself from my family. Maybe I'm scared of getting too attached to anyone now?

Who am I kidding. You know, I know, that bullshit about man not being an island isn't just a bunch of honky-tonk.

So it seems like I've got some stuff to write to you after all. And the night is now winding down, and I'm actually sweating in my Simian shirt (yeah, the one that we missed the cover of "Oops Oh My" for ... or wait, that was when we went to the loo). It's been a while since I woke up and felt like it, you know? Waking up, that is. I had a dream the other night and it was horrible. I'll tell you about it later.