Dancing Queen

As my last two weeks here start to unravel I have become more anxious about my departure and hence more prone to going out with the friends I am leaving behind and drinking my sorrow's and reservations down with a bottle of rum.

I still feel nauseous from the effects of that god forsaken bottle that very well should of stayed dusty on the shelf at my local liquor store where embarrassingly enough, every one knows my name, and the brand of smokes I buy. Things like that are more thought provoking than they were before. Even though I am ready for my adventure and story to unfold I am beginning to feel indifferent to this place I have hated since the moment I arrived, at least until the day I found out I was leaving it. Now the familiar streets I drive to down to get home from work each day hold a peaceful comfort I never noticed before.

Friends, friends are like the pair of shoes you have been thinking about every time you walk by your favorite store. The ones you really want to have, the ones that all the cool kids have, the ones that you need in life to make you feel complete. And then one day you splurge and indulge your self, and you wear those very shoes out of the store, and on your first walk together they have already hurt your feet, you think to yourself self that you need to break them in and they will be fine, but they never get broken in, and they constantly hurt whenever you wear them and you suddenly feel riped off and betrayed by these shoes and then it dawns on you that the idea of them were much more appealing than the actually feeling you get when they are on. Friends, you think you have to have them because everyone else does too, but in reality they are those expensive shoes you wasted your money on that you can never wear only say that you have a pair too, so you feel like you fit in. Having friends is a joke, I wish I were able to find a true friendship that fits like those ugg boots you bought on sale three years ago and have never felt better each time you out them on.

Oh by the way, Mama Mia is possibly the worst movie ever made! And why is it that all mothers feel so inclined to take there daughters to see it? God my mother even went out her way just to make a special trip to the theaters with me the ugly duck out of her clan to see that movie. I love those little moments in life, like the moment me and my mom walked out of the theater because we just could not take another moment of the shitty ABA songs being sung by the cast and the audience.