It's 3am...

And I am lonely. I've been asleep for about six hours. I can't sleep anymore. I'm so exhausted, that my body isn't even able to really sleep. My mind is racing. I can't stop thinking about everything. My job, my friends, Chuck, Bobby, and everything in between. Maria began her new play tonight. Was I there? Hell no. I was a Carmel Ridge playing the martyr. Sometimes, I get tired of being the "good girl"- you know, there's always one in a circle of friends.

The girl who always says the right thing to cheer up her friends, who doesn't miss mass on sunday, and always looks like she stepped right off the cover of Vogue. The one who always has her shit together, and a smile on her face. You can count on her for anything. Oh, and for her man, she'll be hopelessly devoted. Yep. Just stick my picture beside of said description, and there you have it. The "stereotypical good girl".

Even after screwing up majorly, I'm still the "purest" of all my friends. God knows Susan has been there, done half of them, and you could get an STD just listening to the stories about it. Maria. There's a troubled soul. What hasn't she done? Coke, hash, X, if it was out there, the girl has done it. It's a miracle she's alive to tell about it. It's a miracle she has a liver the way she used to drink. Then there's Chloe'. Yes, I've been smoking since I was 13, and drinking since I was around 15, but have always been mostly responsible in both. Drugs- never felt the need to do them. I was high enough on life, I couldn't imagine anything else getting in my way. Sex- didn't need to. I didn't have to validate my worth by making myself a notch on some man's bedpost. Sure, I've been deeply intimate with my share of men, but they were men I had a deep bond with, not just one night stands.

I came to New York City to be an individual. To stand out. To be the worldly, sophisticated woman I knew deep in my heart I was, but couldn't be in a small confined town. When I first moved to New York, I went out EVERY night. I hit a new bar or restrurant every night. I took in all of the sights and culture I could possibly get. Basically, I burned myself out. You would never think that living in a city like New York, that you could be burned out on culture and nightlife- but trust me, you can.

Now, I'm longing to get all of that back, to get out live again. Even at 3:00am, the streets are still alive. People walking up and down the streets, each with a different expression, each carrying a different burden. No matter what we're going through, on the streets of New York, we're all the same. That's one of the beauties of the city. One of the things that keeps me here. So many times, I've thought of packing up and going back home. Leaving behind all that I have here, and returning to simplicity. But once you've come this far, it's hard to go back.

So here I sit, pondering all of the things that I want, and want to be. All of the things I've done, and left undone. As I put my cigarette out, and looked at the clock, I thought about calling Bobby. I know he's awake. He never sleeps. I had to put away our pictures the other night. Coming home after a hard night at work, and seeing something that made me so happy, just overwhelmed me. I couldn't look at it. However, I did leave out the picture of me with Chuck- I need that to remind me how far I've come. But Bobby... where did I go wrong?

It's going to be a long night...