Friday Night? Alright

Have you ever had a moment of realization where you take a look at everything in your life and realize that you can’t go back? You realize that the comfortability and familiarity in your life has passed on, and all you’re left with is something foreign.

It’s become clear that I am far too dependent on the hope that the lives of my friends intercede with mine. In college, I became so accustomed to having someone I could tag along with every weekend that I forgot what it was like to have my own plans. Now, I am sitting here on a Friday night scribbling down my thoughts on a digitalized blank sheet of paper posted to a blog that I just started in an attempt to help me piece my life back together, only to realize that it’s impossible to try. The reality is that I can’t go back. It’s silly for me to pretend like everything can go back to normal. The people that I was constantly surrounded by now have their own separate lives. We all have our own troubles and triumphs, our own jobs, our own errands and even our own frequently visited places.

It was so ridiculously easy for me to take for granted the livelihood that came with surrounding myself with fun, caring people. Being bored is so much more fun with your friend than it is by yourself. For me, being bored brings about a pulsing feeling of desperation. I become uneasy when I don’t have valid plans to keep myself entertained. Yet, that desperation was non-existent when I was surrounded by the college community. One of my fondest memories of being bored was when my roommate and I decided to go on Chatroullete and greet random strangers while trying out different accents. That night ended up with the two of us cooking a pasta diner while drunkenly yelling in Spanish to each other. That was by far one of the most fun boring days I’ve had.

You’d think that with a little booze you can turn any boring night into a fun filled adventure, but it doesn’t work when it’s just one person. What results is a sad sac of regret nestled into a blanket burrito on the bed writing down his thoughts on a glowing screen (results may vary).

If there’s anything that I’ve learned over these past few months in an attempt to be more independent, it’s at least this: “no-matter what, I still have Netflix documentaries.”