Thought.is

I do not know a single soul on this urban island. I know of old acquaintances, old lovers and friends’ of friends’ of friend’s. Or in my case: a friend’s little sister’s ex-best friend-turned junkie. I am alone in San Francisco, on this godforsaken isle—all because I was hungry and selfish to discover independence on my own.

Four years later, college has whirled past you and you barely remember the drunken nights at house parties where all the pretentious art majors were sticking their heads outside windows or sitting on porches smoking their cigarettes talking about pseudo-intellectual bullshit, or the random conversations you had with strangers you met outside bars while you were smoking…