I miss Friday nights. Not that coming to college somehow deleted them from my week, but more that college isn’t conducive to the type of Friday nights I became accustomed to in high school.

For my entire life, I have been a fairly extroverted person, feeding on other people’s energy like a (usually) non-evil dementor. But, come Friday night, I would find myself utterly disgusted with humanity. It was never that humanity did anything wrong, rather that I think I have always been able to identify when I've reached my bullshit capacity.

Allow me to clarify— bullshit does not even have to mean the compilation of the stupid things people indubitably do (believe me, I am not excluded from this assertion). In this context, I speak of the broader bullshit. Bullshit in the sense of people being unapologetically exactly who they are supposed to be. And in most contexts, this is beautiful. Beautiful bullshit. However, at the end of a week of 6 hours of sleep, 5 club meetings, 3 tests, 2 papers, and 1 passive aggressive email, it’s hard to see this bullshit as beautiful. And I hate that.

Ask any person who knows me or has had even a 371-second conversation with me, and they will tell you. I. Love. People. I think people are positively wondrous, and I love all the little things that make the bullshit of one person different than the bullshit of another. Because of this, I hate not perceiving bullshit as beautiful. Or, in more sensical terms, I hate being annoyed with people when they have done nothing wrong. It adds to my angst, which my parents can attest to as already tumultuous.

But! There is a solution! The notorious, fantasized about, gorgeous, sloth-like, Friday night in.

Now I know you must be thinking, “Um, okay, obviously,” but let me tell you, this miraculous novelty proves near impossible in college. At least for me. Maybe because I’m an extrovert (okay, definitely because I’m an extrovert), even in the midst of bullshit-induced-angst I want to be around people. And sometimes that’s okay, giving us a chance to rant together and revel in our (now evil) dementor-like qualities, but it isn’t the same. Though I leave these evenings refreshed and with a slightly subsided urge to go to Hot Topic, the underlying distaste for humanity remains. So why don’t I simply get a piece of mediocre pizza, lock myself in my dorm room, listen to Fall Out Boy, watch Skins and call it a night well spent?

Well, truth be told, I don’t know.