Times are hard for dreamers

Coming home to what seems like a deserted wasteland has taken a toll (or rather, toke) on me. I'm used to returning home from vacations, and prancing into the open arms of friends. I arrived home from Alaska today, and Emily was the only one left. We self medicated for what seemed like several hours, got terrible "you're so stoned and pathetic"-stares in Turriellos. In fact, I nibbled on my slice in a state of total paranoia and fright. We drove halfway to Cathy's only to turn a street or two before. I didn't think it'd be so painful to watch the masses drop like flies. Pack their respected tastes in granola bars, their preferred booze and pot, pencils, pens, and IKEA-ware, and up and go. Embark on their next four years of collegiate bliss--whilst I sit out the next 7-weeks. In lonesome agony.