10October 1983
My roommate Kayla and I hadn't had much to do with each other at all since we'd moved in. She was gone most weekends, I was working in the library most nights. She invited me to things every so often, but I always turned her down. It wasn't that I didn't like her—I didn't know her well enough to dislike her—it was that I didn't want to like her. I didn't want to be her friend. It wasn't anything personal; I hadn't found myself wanting to be anyone's friend. I talked to people in my classes if they talked to me first, but that was the extent of things. I told myself that was because I was too busy to have actual friends. I knew, deep down, that it was because I didn't feel like I could have any good friends right now. It would feel something like a betrayal, though I was sur
