with my old gang from high school. I sat there, crosslegged and uncomfortable and looked around this miniature table and realized that all my friends from high school, each one of them, lives such different lives than myself. We all have different goals, at least I from them, though they all appear to be in the same spot as oneanother. The most obvious factor is a girlfriend, all of the men there except for Amir who just got home from Central and Sout America, had a girl they had been dating for over a year. Without the Hawk, i felt all alone in that situation, I was extremely uncomfortable and out of place sitting at this table inbetween both Wesenbergs, who made my situation a little more bearable.
I need to start anew, my boys will always be my boys, and with them amongst the guys, like how it was hanging at Beckers dads’ house but in a situation like this, I wanted to sit on the end next to a stranger. it was not my scene. Luckily i had to bolt early for a concert, but I wouldn’t have lasted a whole meal, though i wouldnt mind returning as the full menu looked good. A #12 from Milio’s down the street filled me up just fine.
I write boring stories, perhaps it’s why i can’t tell a good story.
