not a bad thing.

it may be too early, or perhaps I want it so badly, but as I sat across from him saturday night, there were no pangs of anguish, no cast away looks. And on my way home, no breathless moments of quiet reflection; it was just the rain, the wind and me.

Another holiday hell has passed and I've been the recipient of many epiphanies.

I have friends that love me, regardless of how much I try to disprove it.
I like being on the outside
We make our own hell
and I really am this old, with lots of memories that go with it.
...and it's not a bad thing.