The Personal Chronicles of a Teenage Boy

Nights

I hate nights. I don't mean any nights, just certain particular nights. These are the nights where there is nobody else around. These nights I spend alone, watching TV, surfing the net, or just sitting around. They always feel empty.
It's the emptiness of these nights that I hate. I always feel so alone. I have my two dogs to comfort me, along with plenty of other animals, but it's not the same as having a person there. I will probably refer to Holden Caulfield a lot during this journal, because I find myself very similar to him. Like young Holden, I need companionship, especially during these empty nights. They always seem so long.
My mother is concerned with my lack of a social life. I have always been an outcast by choice. It's not my choice, but the choice of fate. I the type of person who make many friends. I'm always friendly towards mostally everyone, but I never seem to make close friends. This, along with my meticulus personality which demands that I always know every detail of what's going on, just drives me away from a social life. I go out with a group of peers twice a year after performances of school plays. Once I can drive, it may be different, but for now, my social life is non-existent.
My mother hates that I stay home during these nights, but I never like to go with her when she leaves. I don't like to hamper on her good time. I never feel like I belong in such an evening.
This is why I hate nights. They are empty. They are long and tedius. Of course, the mental anguish of nights clears away by morning.