I've been thinking alot about the conversation I had with that blind bloke at the pub a few days ago. My relationships (or lack there of) have pretty much revolved around Jojo, but that guy's questions made me realize that I'm going about this all wrong. I have been trying to interact with people the last few months through my dog. I thought it would work - you know, like those movies where the two people fall in love because one of their dogs jumps on the other? Life's not really like that. If this hell hole has taught me anything it's that. But my skewed version of relationships isn't even the most pathetic part of my life. Jojo's not real. I don't really know why I made him up. I never had an imaginary friend when I was little, I was always the kid with no imagination. When we played princes and princesses, I was always the horse: no speaking role on the playground, no need to show off my lack of creativity. So maybe I'm living my childhood, but I don't think this is how the life of a girl in her late twenties is supposed to go.

I find myself in front of Mo' Liquor. As I'm wondering how I ended up down here, outside of my apartment in the damp evening cold, a man walking quickly nearly knocks me over. I regain my balance and he disappears around the corner, taking the strong stench of fish with him. I'm completely invisible. Like my dog. And a bottle of scotch and my leftover Ambien are sounding better and better by the second.