I guess maybe you need a little background to understand.
Our story is not typical of most friends. I say "our story", because it used to be difficult to define us as anything but Us. Although the beginning of Us technically began on a Catholic retreat, I'm not going to preach about how Jesus changed our lives, and we were all spiritually enlightened and all of that hoopla. Really, God was simply the common thread that wove our lives together, when otherwise we may never have met. There were 12 of us in total, and we all fit together in the strangest, most perfect ways. But ever since graduating from high school and leaving for college, August marked the end of life as we once knew it- bringing feelings of loss and sadness I wasn't fully prepared to endure. Yes, we would see each other on breaks, but it would never be quite the same. Up until that August, our lives were intertwined. Complimentary, even. Once we all left, our lives became separate. I went off to art school and failed miserably. I hated the school, I hated the classes, I hated the people, but most of all, I hated that I was hating everything alone. I didn't have my best friends to feel everything with me anymore. So I came home, and transferred to a local college. I'm not sure I'll ever know if I regret it or not... If I gave up, or simply had to learn a tough lesson.
Fast forward one year. The summer after freshman year was full of craziness, conflicting schedules, and petty arguments. We were all on different paths, and it was becoming more and more evident. The end of summer wasn't quite so awful, mostly due to the fact that I felt like I had a lot less to miss. Yes, everything was changing again, but so was I. There was a lot to deal with moving into a dorm again, that the loss wasn't so apparent. Looking back, I think the only reason I decided to move on-campus is so that I had somewhere to go, too, instead of having everyone just leave me. Sophomore year was a whirlwind, though, in different ways. My friends and I repaired the relationships that were broken. I made a lot of life changes in the hopes that they would stick, but I ended up failing again. Failure has become a constant friend of mine, these past few years. After the Spring semester ended, I spent a month in Florida, working full-time and living on my own. Partly, to prove to myself that I was, in fact, capable of being on my own. But also to get away from life for awhile. To reevaluate. To regroup. And upon my return, it was like a glimpse of the past... a bit of the joy we shared as a cohesive group back in that summer before college. We weren't exactly tight, not like we used to be. It was disjointed and strange, but it was wonderful again. Which brings me here, back to square one. Facing the same end, but an end I always knew was coming. The difference is that everyone else is leaving for their other lives, and for the first time, I am staying put. Same place, same routine, same life. The same location, just without all of the people that made me grow to love it. Without the people who make living here worthwhile, and happy. This is even more painful than I can express.
In some ways, perhaps it is a necessary change to endure. Regardless, I will miss these times. In my life, even with its warm sunshine and beauty, August is synonymous with sadness and loss. It's when the sun sets and the stars come out to put my insignificance into perspective, that the ache settles in the pit of my stomach. The ache that's only remedy is to survive another year. To make it to another glorious summer, when, for three months we can exist together again, pretending that life is every bit as simple as it used to be.
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