"Come december lydia left
Mentioned something about it being for the best
And I can’t say I disagree
Now I’m standing facing west
Tracing my fingers round a silhouette
I haven’t gotten used to yet
But it’s the brightest thing I got

And I’m covered in rain
Cus I’m covered in rain
Cus I’m covered in rain
You and me and everyone, covered in rain"

You feel me, John Mayer, except I can say I disagree.

I'm beginning to realize how well I don't know you. Three years ago, I would have thought of three years as an entrance to forever. Now, almost a year isn't even enough time to know a person. I thought the cool guy with his saccharine words was merely a facade, whilst the genuine person lingered beneath. Have I been deluded this entire time?

You're so honest about some things, yet it seems with others (if I'm correct), you cannot even spare me the truth. It's wearisome trying to piece together what's forsaken and preserve the friendship left in its dust, when I appear to be alone in making an effort.

I was told to never look back, to keep walking.
and the minute I looked over my shoulder,
I saw everything i ever gave up on.
all the things I let go of,
and all of the people who let go of me.

I hate goodbyes, and people disappearing from my life. So I always strived to keep them. But not everyone did the same for me. That's how I realized that I don't need anyone. And I guess I shouldn't want anyone in my life, who doesn't care to keep me in theirs.

...I think it's time to start my life over.

Through the Chelsea apartment, I see the line of Whole Foods getting longer and longer. On a normal day, the security guard would reject you from entering after 11pm. But today is no normal day. It is the day before Hurricane Irene is determined to hit the East Coast. So people continue entering Whole Foods and the line seems impossible.

A group of girls in short dresses and heels pass the market. "They're still going clubbing," my friend laughs. I laugh too, although thoroughly not surprised. We enjoy a savory meal of Crab Rangoon, Pineapple Curry Duck, and Thai Volcanic Chicken at Spice on 8th Avenue. The restaurants and bars are filled with patrons, who probably view the night as sort of say, a "last meal," before hibernating in their homes.

My friend has bought a flashlight, "batteries not included." We forage Duane Reade, Rite Aid, and four delis, all of which have run out of D batteries (the ones that look steroidically pumped). I see a quaint little cake shop, and lured by the delectable treats, walk in.

"This is how I'm preparing for the hurricane," I joke. "Stocking up on desserts." I get one vanilla cupcake.

Later, I am stuck on the subway for over a half hour. At least I have my cupcake. Boy, is it delectable!