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In a rather startling discovery, I've come to realize that the reason I haven't been posting here as of late is not because I have nothing to say, but more so because I don't feel like talking. As was the norm when I lived in MD before, I keep my disappointments to myself and do as I always do whenever I feel restless, bored or lonely - I drive.

My car has once again become my sanctuary; a mobile fortress of solitude. As I expressed earlier this year, my car is my Black Pearl; a sense of freedom made tangible in the form of a vessel that can carry me to destinations intangible - the end of my loneliness and detachment from the world around me. Truly, those seem unreachable ports; harbors in which I will never lay anchor.

Why do I feel as though, regardless of my friends' prior assurances of the great times that would be had upon my arrival home, the people I expected to spend time with don't really want me around?

(Notation: There was more to this post, but I don't feel like publishing it; a clue as to how detached I am from everything right now - I really just don't care enough to speak my mind)