July 11th, 2004


We started driving shortly after 10AM

You know, aside from Mel, Trish and Tim, I've not heard from ANYONE in Boston who doesn't have a Live Journal unless I wrote to them first.

Oh well.  Out of sight out of mind, I guess.

Yesterday, this bothered me a whole lot.  Today, not so much.  It's not that I don't care, but... I guess in the whole scheme of life it doesn't make a whole lot of difference.  Would I be that much better off if they HAD written?  Probably not.  I wasn't really the center of anyone's existence while I was there.  Was I important?  Did I make an impact?  Yeah, I'm sure I did.  But there's no one whose life is irrevocably incomplete because I'm no longer there.

I haven't been the center of anyone's existence in a very long time.  And speaking of which, during the 'purging' of crap I've been doing I came across a bunch of old love letters.  Sentimental turd.  It was actually really satisfying to drop them, unread, into the garbage.  More than closure, I had closure ages ago.  This was more a sense of finality.  No going back to dwell (and call it reminiscing) in another 5 years.  True, I only remember good times anymore, but... whatever.  Done is done.  Over is over.

It's weird fighting my genetically inherited pack-ratness.

The center of my world.

Well shit

I'm such a craptastic friend that I missed someone very special's birthday yesterday because I was too busy wallowing in my own crap.  Even after I went and told OTHER people about it the day before.


Shitty friend
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