In Which Clare Is Emo And Clingy
Sep. 2nd, 2008 12:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bloodygranuaileAs grateful as I am to be able to go back to Clark this year, I'm also really missing all the people who won't be coming back, and that's taking some of the joy out of it.
Move-in day was boring, compared to last year's. Visited the 2nd floor of Maywood, where pretty much all of my friends that are still undergrads are living. One six-person suite; one four-person suite. I don't actually even know all of the people in those suites. And then there is Beth and Shay, and everyone else either graduated or I am living with them. And some of my housemates I barely knew before we decided to live together, and still don't know very well.
Last year's was positively epic in comparison, in good and bad ways. Bad partly because my brain was beginning what would turn into a months-long depressive shutdown, so it was just too much for me to handle. But I remember spending all day running around joyously greeting dozens of people I hadn't seen in months, hardly able to believe we were finally reunited. And I didn't even get to see everybody on the first day, I don't think.
Over the course of that last year, I've met so many more people and made and strengthened so many friendships, and yet I had so many fewer people to see.
A bunch of the graduates are still around, it's true, but... a bunch of them aren't. Ally came up for the weekend, which was awesome, but now she's gone again. Dan is leaving for Greece like tomorrow, or maybe Wednesday, and then I will quite likely never see him again.
And then I keep getting all emo about the way the day ended. I remember sitting on the couch with Tony around midnight and by brain completely flatlining--unable to have a conversation, somehow completely overwhelmed with the mental task of processing that I really was where I was and my friends really were here and all that obvious shit. I'd spent four months in Jersey pining over my separation from my friends and I couldn't even manage a smile for him. I opted for going to bed early (compared to everyone else, at least) instead of heading over to Florence street because I felt like I didn't understand the question and the uncertainty was just too much on top of everything else. I woke up the next morning wondering what the hell happened to my sense of adventure, and with a deep paranoid suspicion that everything was about to go radically wrong. (I was right, too--within a couple weeks I was sleeping eighteen hours a day and had run a very important friendship into awkward silence. Of course, I wasn't right because external things happened; I was right because my brain hates me.)
I'm really having a very difficult time of it right about now remembering this and not getting very angry with myself. I had everyone I loved right with me, and somehow I couldn't handle it, and had to go be miserable for months on end and make life difficult for myself when it was just poised to be the best it had ever been. And now that won't happen again.
One of these days I will get my revenge on my feeble, fickle brain for all the things it's made me fuck up. Somehow.
Move-in day was boring, compared to last year's. Visited the 2nd floor of Maywood, where pretty much all of my friends that are still undergrads are living. One six-person suite; one four-person suite. I don't actually even know all of the people in those suites. And then there is Beth and Shay, and everyone else either graduated or I am living with them. And some of my housemates I barely knew before we decided to live together, and still don't know very well.
Last year's was positively epic in comparison, in good and bad ways. Bad partly because my brain was beginning what would turn into a months-long depressive shutdown, so it was just too much for me to handle. But I remember spending all day running around joyously greeting dozens of people I hadn't seen in months, hardly able to believe we were finally reunited. And I didn't even get to see everybody on the first day, I don't think.
Over the course of that last year, I've met so many more people and made and strengthened so many friendships, and yet I had so many fewer people to see.
A bunch of the graduates are still around, it's true, but... a bunch of them aren't. Ally came up for the weekend, which was awesome, but now she's gone again. Dan is leaving for Greece like tomorrow, or maybe Wednesday, and then I will quite likely never see him again.
And then I keep getting all emo about the way the day ended. I remember sitting on the couch with Tony around midnight and by brain completely flatlining--unable to have a conversation, somehow completely overwhelmed with the mental task of processing that I really was where I was and my friends really were here and all that obvious shit. I'd spent four months in Jersey pining over my separation from my friends and I couldn't even manage a smile for him. I opted for going to bed early (compared to everyone else, at least) instead of heading over to Florence street because I felt like I didn't understand the question and the uncertainty was just too much on top of everything else. I woke up the next morning wondering what the hell happened to my sense of adventure, and with a deep paranoid suspicion that everything was about to go radically wrong. (I was right, too--within a couple weeks I was sleeping eighteen hours a day and had run a very important friendship into awkward silence. Of course, I wasn't right because external things happened; I was right because my brain hates me.)
I'm really having a very difficult time of it right about now remembering this and not getting very angry with myself. I had everyone I loved right with me, and somehow I couldn't handle it, and had to go be miserable for months on end and make life difficult for myself when it was just poised to be the best it had ever been. And now that won't happen again.
One of these days I will get my revenge on my feeble, fickle brain for all the things it's made me fuck up. Somehow.