I was at my old school sometime last week, with a purpose of procuring some documents, and chanced upon an old friend of mine. I call her Stone, for that's her name (her parents apparently deemed it necessary for her appelation to exude manly strength, thus), much to her annoyance. I alone apparently call her by it, however, to the point that she no longer cared and perhaps even thought it sweet. She was pleasantly surprised to see me, having been apart for more than a year, and swiftly snatched my hands and proceeded forth directly to interrogate me. I felt suddenly like a prosperous traveler returning home from a bountiful jorney, only that - I wasn't. Not at all, for heaven's sake. And so, awkwardly removing my hands from her bony clutches, asked her instead of what she has been up to.

What was I to tell her? That I have been here, detained and baking my nuggets in this infernal house, insultingly charged with acting as its cook and janitor, my life and professional career on hold, keeping company my brother's new wife and a dog suffering from post-partum depression, without a source of income whatsover (except the occasional 'encode and print'), and eternally waiting for fate to mercifully end my misery? No, I shall betray nothing of the sort. My battered dignity has suffered enough beating. I am at present trying to put into motion the tedious process of applying for the NCLEX, something I conveniently did not disclose, and which may I say has the potential to be more complicated than a lobotomy. The waiting, as I have mentioned, is most exasperating. I have never been a patient person all my life, and this, I tell you, has me dangling at the end of my wits! I busy myself now with study and physical exertion, however, no palliative activity can mask the awful feeling of a degrading pride.

I am at present seriously contemplating employment, which obviously would mean the sacrifice of studying. Employment would, nonetheless, solve my financial problems and restore my somewhat diminished sense of worth. But should I forfeit my examination preparation for the benefits of work? I, dislike it as I might, do not think so. The reason is vague to me but I believe it is necessary to continue this hermit life and to return only to my profession with renewed energy and passion when I have finally accomplished the aforementioned undertaking. To get it over with, as it were. Besides, I have only one chance of slaying the NCLEX, like an abhorrent winged daemon, and it would require my utmost concentration and single-minded devotion. For there is nothing more after this but to bury one's head in earning an honest living even if it is barely enough to purchase and replace my moth-eaten underwear. And to await anew my so-called 'great expectations' - which look, as of yet, so far away.

Stone, looking rather like a matchstick more than ever, absentmindedly ignored my question and expressed her delight in our accidental meeting - until a male friend of hers dressed in feminine robes rudely interrupted us, entreating her to fix his dress without even a word of apology. Never missing a cue and remembering my existing appointment, to which I was relatively late, excused myself and hurriedly left. Stone texted me later that night and we continued our conversation. She has recently, as she so boastfully stated (and which I have already suspected), a new boyfriend. It reminded me, so suddenly and without warning, of Stella and how a certain gentleman friend of hers has somehow affected her seemingly harmless smiles. Severing my ties with society has had one significant effect that I have forgotten to mention - my social life, and in effect, my romantic life (no matter how relatively dormant it usually is), is sacrificed as well. I shrugged it off easily enough, however, it made me more eager to part with the balls and chains that has me tied down to my present despicable situation. As I begged farewell, I have a feeling that I will not see my increasingly-gaunty friend nor of the outside world for a long while.

Ah well, have I not always desired a moment of utter privacy?