There isn't much that makes me feel more insecure than having nothing to do on Saturday night. Stupid yes, but true.
I could deal back in the midwest, but for some reason in New York it feels really terrible.
Why can't I handle being by myself?

Why am I really here? In New York. Can I be happy here, just me? It sure doesn't feel like it. I'm tired of missing so many people.
There isn't enough making me happy to compensate. Actually I feel like New York is trying to break me, get me out. Saying I don't belong, that I'm not tough enough. I tend to agree.
A few times a day, I love New York. But perhaps more times a day I really hate it.
For instance:

Love

All the Puerto Rican kids flirting and dancing for Puerto Rican day
The old drunk Polish man who I thought was going to be sketch, actually be very sweet, just wanting "to rest for a minute by a pretty girl"
My lunch menu written all in Polish
Seeing the hula hoop boy on the L train
Never minding how far I have to walk

Hate

Having no sense of community
Looking at another tiny claustrophobic room that still costs more that I ever thought I would pay in rent
Cockroaches EVERYWHERE
The smell of the Canal St. subway station
The great disconnect bewteen people, even though they are constantly being smashed together
Sense of constantly competing for everything


Is it just me, like he said? I need to be happy with myself in order to be happy anywhere? But how do I get there?