Friends.

I went out with adults other than my parents tonight for the first time since I moved back to North Carolina. I've been here since May, and I haven't made any friends yet. I guess tonight was a start. But, in truth, it made me more nostalgic than anything.

Making new friends forces me to think of the friends that I miss, the friends that I didn't have to make, the friends that just happened.

And it used to be that way for me. I was funny and charming, and friends just fell in my lap out of the sky. That was back in my drinking days. I'm funnier when I'm drunk. Sober, I'm just awkward.

I have these friends, these friends who are not many in number but who are mine and valuable and important. And they're all so far away, and it seems to be that way always.

Consequently, I sit and reminisce and wish that I could play one more game of pool at the Balcony with this one or eat one more golden-battered octobus ball on a brick wall with another.

And bowling and chatting and whatever with friends that I'm trying to make doesn't seem as natural.