Thinking about you, and there's no rest

When I was 17, I told a friend of mine that I didn't want to graduate from high school and go to college. My life was too good, I said. Of course, now I can hardly believe that I felt that way, and I would rather die than go back to age 17. At the time, it was so intense that my whole life would change, but now it just seems inevitable. Much like I feel today, I was sure that my best days were behind me, and the feeling of moving away from people that I loved was so acute, so sharp, and so juggernautishly real.

With this experience in mind, I face another big change in my life. Some of the people here have changed me, irreversibly I imagine, and I can barely even comprehend that they will not be a part of my daily life next week. Still, I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that a year from now I will be buried in Habermas texts and paper grading, and this life will seem distant. I will remember it fondly, but I won't feel waives of nausea when I think of what has changed.

The funny thing is that, with this attempt at trying to comfort myself, I realized that the real pain of moving is that the things that I am sick to lose will fade from importance. It is not so bad that I feel the impending loss of these relationships, but the scariest part is that in five years, I may not feel it this way anymore. Just like when I look back on high school with fondness and don't remember the urgency and the size of my feelings, someday I will think of leaving these friends and I won't feel sick. Instead of feeling tragic, it will seem inevitable.