I just returned from the get-together in Bani Gala (beautiful house, not-so-beautiful people) and a party in F-7. Was fun (I suppose) but I'm exhausted. Why doesn't anybody listen when I make excuses anymore? They tell me not to be a drama queen and come kidnap me from my house. And I, of the no-will-power, follow meekly. What a wuss I am. And what a moron: to crave space when my social life consumes me, and to crave a life when things are at a lull.