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.