Every year, my friends organize this picnic with a really long name. I'll call it Ocho for short. It's supposed to be a summer festival of friendship and frolicking and fun in the sun.

I've found out, second hand, that I wasn't invited.

I don't know why this happened. Perhaps it was an honest mistake. But the way things have been going in my life, it doesn't seem like it is an honest mistake. Rochester is loneley, and I KNOW that these people kow that I'm loneley as hell here. Hell, I'm living in a 4 bedroom apartment this summer, and I don't even have a roommate.

So, my thanks go to Sara for actually thinking enough to ask if I was going to Ocho today, and to Dan for forwarding to me the invitation that was never sent.

I know damn well that they're over at Mendon Ponds right now stuffing their faces and having fun. And I'm sitting at home typing this entry. And you know what... in my mind, there's probably only 2 people there who even know that I'm not there.

And I'm not going to miss that.

Not one tiny bit.

Well maybe just a little bit.

o/~ and I'm crying inside, but nobody knows it but me. o/~