I’ve got to get up early in the morning. Softball practice around the corner from where I just left. My close friends live there and yet I’m not invited to stay over for a few hours. So I drive 30 minutes back here and I drive 30 minutes back there in the morning just a few hours from now. Wasting time that I could be sleeping. Wasting gas and putting wear and tear on the car. That’s what my friends what let me do. They all have extra rooms and extra beds. Maybe I just don’t understand how it makes sense to them, but it doesn’t make any sense to me. Somehow that does not fit my definition of a friend. Where is the empathy? Those are the people who call themselves friends today. Maybe people don't look out for each other the way I do. People just don’t seem to want to give or share or care, at least not how I define it or do it. That makes me sad. Maybe I am just more sensitive than, more sensitive than I should be? That seems to be excusing insensitivity to me. I could be wrong. Still, unless I am drugged or delusional (and I'm getting there), I don’t know how to feel less. To love less. To care less. To give less. To share less. Less than that seems cruel to me. And I will not do it. So if I am more sensitive than I should be, then I am. I would not be happy being any other way.