She talks a good game. She really does. And it breaks my heart to think its possibly she's just telling me what I want to hear. She always talks about how we'll all stay friends even in college and how we'll get to see each other all the time despite everything. And yet I can't help but feel like she grew up without us - and has greater aspirations for friendship than we can keep. But it is what it is.
Last night was what I'm sure will be one of the last social gatherings of the summer, and of this chapter in my life. Eric, Tom, Diana and I went to Applebees and, over half priced appetizers, talked for hours about nothing. I'm going to, and to some extent already do, miss that. It's all at the same time hysterical and nostalgic and magical and close and carefree and whimsical and it's home. Two years ago we all went to the very same resteraunt and laughed until there was italian dressing running out of our noses (quite literally in some's case). It was there that we all, exhausted and punch drunk, exhanged sex stories, secret and pent up desires. I invented the table-crippling self-cleansing device. And it was there, last night, on almost hallowed grounds, that we said goodbye.
It's true though.
"Everyone is afraid of their own life."
Sorry this one is so short but it's so hard to hold on to something when everything is so desperately in transit.
Bomb the Blogosphere,
Mike
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2 comments:
oh, stringer.
so many people still have yet to meet you.
and ramapo will be wonderful.
keep smiling, love.
=]
Remember when they made me work an extra hour, and I wasn't able to go? :(
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