good times

I probably spent at least 15 hours in my car yesterday. Most of that time was spent driving to and from helping a friend. I don't know if I actually accomplished what I set out to achieve. It's difficult to help others when you barely have a grasp on reality yourself. But it's the thought that counts, right? I just hope people know I have good intentions when it comes to friends. You would think that would be a thing that would not have to be said. Because, I mean, what's the point of being friends if there's not good intentions? Sometimes there's extenuating circumstances, history, the past, if you will, that might muddy up that aphorism of intent in friendships.

I'm feeling the full weight of my actions everyday. I always have been, I think I just decided to acknowledge it. Maybe being this far from how it used to be has given me the perspective necessary to realize what life was like before I decided to fuck up.

Whatever has happened in the last 24 hours I'm safe for now from my friends and what they know about me. Tucked safely away in a frigid Minneapolis with my utterly devoted and randomly violent cat, burning dragon's blood, drinking grape soda, and listening some helpful music.

And about that cat. So dependent on me. Refuses to receive attention and affection from almost everyone else. I guess what I've always been looking for in a girl. She greets me at the door everyday and immediately wishes to play. She wakes me up in the morning purring and standing on my head. She sits on my desk and naps as I type. She always wants to be near me. And occasionally if I'm paying too much, not enough, or the wrong kind (?) of attention to her she lashes out with a hiss and a swipe. She also plays too rough and I've got the scars to prove it. I need to re-read Solaris.

I might actually get specific later.