Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

December 21

December 21

I had a great sleep. For someone who does fuck all every day – apart from walking around the city and eating my weight in hamburgers – I was sure fucking tired when I got back to Brooklyn last night.

As with yesterday, both Greg and Michelle were out of the apartment by the time I woke up this morning. At least, I thought so. I had been in such a deep sleep that I wasn't 100% sure. After responding to my own echo, I got off the couch, re-packed my suitcase, and gathered my life for the day.

The first stop on my adventure around Manhattan was actually a continuation of yesterday's schlep. I went on the hunt for that damn H&M fur coat again. I don't know why I'm obsessing over it – especially when you consider how often I write journal entries about not wanting to covet material possessions. I suppose a part of the constant searching is a result me not having all that much to do in New York City. Why do I come here for so long? Honestly, I think it's because I'm convinced something incredible is going to happen to me again. Somehow, I'll recreate my amazing trip from last year. Everything will be perfect again. But, it won't. In fact, my trips to the Big Apple only seem to be getting progressively worse. More on that later.

En route to H&M, I went to the new World Trade Center site. I walked around outside, looked at the memorial stuff, the pools, the shopping center beneath everything, and took it all in. I would've liked to have gone to the museum, but I was too cheap for a ticket. What I saw outside was enough. While sad to admit, all I wanted to do today was chat with hot guys online and find that damn fur coat. Why the fuck I thought I had to visit New York City for either of those items is beyond me. A waste of money, really.

Dragging my tired, bloody, and swollen feet all over town, I checked out a few more stores before eventually hitting up Miss Lily's in the East Village. Tito had suggested the restaurant yesterday, and I was getting hungry. It was also absolutely freezing outside again. With an overcast sky added into the mix, today was bleak as all hell. Imagine my surprise when I got to sit down inside bright and lively Caribbean restaurant.

I ordered a drink. My drink arrived. After my first sip, my phone buzzed. I'd received an iMessage from Aaron. A very long iMessage. I had only read the first few words of Aaron's essay when I knew that something was wrong – and that it was going to be about my recent stay at his apartment.

Aaron: "Hey buddy, I've been trying to figure out how to say this without offending as I adore you and care for you SO much. I have told you countless times how much I appreciate our friendship – how it has changed me, etc.

"First off, I'm so sorry we haven't been able to get spare keys. It is a huge problem that has been frustrating me enormously, and if that caused you any tension, my apologies. Truly. I was just glad to see you.

"But, when Sonny and I left you on Sunday, we assumed you were taking your stuff over to your friends. You went to brunch, yay, but then apparently rang all the buzzers in our apartment building, went into the basement, peed, then passed out in front of our door.