1,975 Miles

Time to go home. Or something. Not home, home's gone. It snuck away from me somewhere between 2006 and Monday. Dirty bastard. Can't really blame home though, I knew it was happening and honestly who wanted to stick around with me anyway?

You can't go back, but what do you do when you can't go forward either? I can't. At least not for a few months. Time. Give shit time and it'll work out. Bullshit. Fucking stupid ass old person, Hippy bullshit. Not everything works out and not everything is worth it.

Times like these call for whiskey. And it just so happens that in the United States of America whiskey is abundant. And it abounds within my cabinet. Don't mind if I do...