So tonight is your last night in town. You'll spend it in a house with ugly blue carpet with friends and drinks and your dog. You'll probably be doing some last minute packing. There will be some tears. Part of me wants to be there, but most of me knows it is better if I am not.
We spent some horrible times together these last few years. And we have spent just as many wonderful ones. There's been nights I wish I could never forget, but I will, and nights I want to throw away, but I will never be able to.
I've known of your existence for probably 15 years. We were friends for close to 10. We were more for 5. And now I don't know what we are. It is sad, but it is reality. For every mean thing I ever said I thought two sweet things. And for every time I broke your heart I broke my own too.
I've heard that you have said I am no longer the person you fell in love with. I agree. I haven't been that person in a couple of years. You are no longer the girl I feel in love with either. But you can't be nineteen forever, right? If there is anything I have realized in these recent months is that we constantly reinvent little parts of ourselves, and if you are too close to the fire you don't notice it getting stronger or dying out. Piece after piece, thought after thought, love after love, they all add up and before we know it we are different.
In 24 hours you'll be on the road with your now ex-roommates, in another state, on your way to another one, and more after that. You'll see things you have never seen before, and things that are familiar. Days will pass. Then weeks, then months, and years. And we will forget the things we said that we meant, and the things we didn't. We'll forget the sunsets and the trips and the fights and the songs. And one day you'll wake up to realize you haven't thought of me in a long time, and you will smile, and you will be happy.
Or you won't.
I don't want to tell you to be safe, I want to tell you to be strong. I don't want to tell you to be careful, I want to tell you to be consistent. I don't want to tell you to forget me, but you should. I don't want to tell you good bye, but I will.
Goodbye.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
on your last night in town
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5 comments:
That's the first time you've ever touched me that didn't send me running to the showers.
Really nice post and very true. I hope she does well for herself.
That was awesome, and beautiful.
Now go clean your room.
I've been sitting here for a while wiping the little tears from the corners of my eyes and trying to think of the right thing to say. I can't though. You already said it. You're a sweetheart, Anthony.
You certainly have a gift.
That last paragraph gave me chills.
Now excuse me, I'm going back to my own blog to write about snot and potty training.
So that totally made me cry at work, where seven people were fired today. My crying freaked out my co-worker, who thought I was number eight. I think this post may have started a brand new job insecurity panic around here.
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