October 18th, 2021 | Best friend
Lately I've been going out with some local Italian friends. It's great. And I love going out with friends. But sometimes I love even more when I get back home and lay in bed. Planning the future and what I’ll do the next day. All excited and shit. Busy and happy in my own little world. My little missions. I almost feel guilty saying it, but I love my own company. I am my own best friend. Is that possible? Or is that something a psychopath would say?