One year

Here I am, hanging out with a cat that I do not own. His name is Watson. He is a good cat. At least to me. The last few nights, four nights I suppose, he has slept with or near me. I love this.

If there is one thing I've learned, it is that it is desirable to fall asleep and wake up next to a living creature. One of my best friends would often say that the most difficult part of breaking up with someone is no longer having a person next to you when you wake up. I can see this. I know that for myself companionship is vital to happiness. Marriage is tough, but I can't imagine being happier.

Meanwhile, look at college. Go to bars. Get drinks. Get too many drinks. And hey, you could probably fuck a girl or two if you wanted. Please forgive my language, but that is the formality of it. No one is real and nothing matters. This does not interest me. Where are real people? Real conversations? I could not hold a six hour conversation with 90% of the girls at this bar. And therefore they are worthless to me. You may be hot, but honestly you're a fucking waste of time.

And yet the people I love, the people I care about continue on in this fashion of life. And that is why I need to get away again. To start over, fresh without any attachments. I will be done with college in a year. I will get a job and move out of this god-forsaken town. 

One year