some guy (self) wrote,
some guy
self

  • Mood:

a dark reunion

I met up with some old friends last week. Some of them had stayed in contact, but for others (like myself), it had been two years without any word.

So, what do you talk about after two years?

Nothing.

No, seriously. Not a thing.

When you see a lot of each other, it's okay that your lives are going nowhere. Your frustrations become stories to tell. Laughs are had. A common bond is formed.

With distance comes shame. Information is inferred rather than given. Answers become evasive. Nothing is volunteered.

I think this frustrated Adam more than anyone, 'cause he's leaving the country for six months, and just wanted to take stock of his connections.

In my case, I've come full-circle. I did some things which might surprise him, but they didn't go anywhere, and here I am right back where he last saw me.

It didn't occur to me to talk about the community service club I helped charter, served as president on, and later district representative, because despite all the good work we've done, that club is on the verge of death.

It didn't occur to me to talk about directing a play, or serving as assistant director on three other plays before that, because I've learned what I could and already moved on to other things.

The work I put in with two seperate organizations trying to revitalize the Comics Industry? All behind me now.

Countless skills picked up but put aside for later.

So many projects.

So many details.

So little to talk about.

I owe Adam an apology.

But Kevin's got the better mystery. The woman he was married to last time we checked was nowhere around, and he didn't introduce the one he left with. He just insisted that nothing was new, that he hadn't done anything interesting for two years.

I think Kevin owes Adam an apology, too.

I'll probably post my life story here fairly soon, because I feel a belated obligation to tell it. That entry may or may not be public, though, so don't hold your breath waiting.
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