In which Allison is sad and perhaps a bit overdramatic.

There will come a time when I no longer know you. Maybe it will take longer than it did in our parents’ era – what with Facebook and social media making it so much easier to keep track of people you barely know… but at some point I will grow up enough that I will no longer feel a desire to check Facebook everyday. My life will be filled with work and maybe family and hopefully crazy beautiful places and dear friends. But in all likelihood, you won’t be in it.

I’m not trying to be an asshole here. I’m just being realistic. You won’t be in my life anymore. We’ll each have moved so many times that somehow we lost track of who was where and doing what. Maybe I’ll get invited to your wedding. Maybe I’ll be able to take off work to go. I hope so – I really want to go to your wedding. I bet it’ll be a kickass party. Maybe I’ll see the status update that announces you’re having a kid or maybe you’ll have long since deleted your Facebook and I’ll only think of you when I remember the time we spent together.

Is this what growing up means? Does it mean that people who have been in your life and been the most important people in your life for so long suddenly disappear? That you start over somewhere else and meet new people who are the most important to you. But then you go somewhere else and you have start over again…

I don’t want to stay in one place for my whole life. The thought of that is just… not fun. But if I commit to keep moving around, then I am basically promising everyone I meet that someday, they will no longer be in my life.

I’ll remember you. In some ways, you’ll be impossible to forget, even if I wanted to… You’ll always be important. You’re part of why I am who I am and why I will be who I will be.

But you won’t be there.

I want you to be there.

I hate this. I hate that leaving means leaving people behind. I want to get out of here and make a change and do things differently but the fact that soon we will all be going our separate ways just makes me terribly, terribly sad. I am not good at keeping in touch with people. Sometimes, it takes a significant effort to remember to text you. Even if I’m thinking about you a lot, I’ll either assume that you’re busy or just won’t have anything particular to say. I’m awful about that. And I’m sorry for it, but I think I’ll be even more sorry soon. When you’re gone. When I’m gone.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I didn’t want to be sad today.

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