After a strange bout of depression last night, I thought that I would try to have a little bit of fun in the middle of the week. I didn't want to sit home and fight the kind of tears I fought, and lost to, last night. So I was going to sit in a coffee shop and study for a little while and be collegiate, soak in academia for a little while before going out with a few friends. By the time the going out with a few friends part was to take place, most people had lost their enthusiasm.

That's how my night of potential fun turned into more of the usual. Lately it has been very difficult to talk to my friends here on campus. Well, just one. It could be just that I am spending an enormous amount of time with him, or that he is simply becoming overly dependent. Either way, I want to not feel annoyed by his presence, his looks, his smile. I think I need some time to myself. I thought perhaps that I'd lie in bed and read until I became sleepy.

I enter my dorm room to find my roommate cuddling sans clothing with her Sasquatch boyfriend listening to my music. Ordinarily I would be almost glad that her musical tastes are expanding beyond "Dance Grooves of the 80s" (Are y'all ready for this?) and Enrique Iglesias (I can be your hero, baby). Tonight, though, it bugged the shit out of me just thinking that she touched my stereo. Or even worse, that the naked Sasquatch might have pressed the play button on it.

A walk was in order.

I walked around campus for a little while before I went back, noticing that even at midnight New Orleans does not leave room for comfort.