On Greg's advice, albeit tweaked:

Last week David made a casual remark about how he would use his backyard for his graduation party if the landlord ever made any sort of effort in its maintenance. His intention was to slam the landlord, but my chest caved a little when I heard it. Graduation party?

Come fall 2009, three of my three closest friends will be out of the state, two of them out of the country: David to Portland, Michelle to Costa Rica, and Shoshana to Thailand or China.

This year is the first I've felt I have friends. Not being an RA, not being consumed by unorthodox amounts of stress and work, getting sleep, and being in a relationship-- this is the most socially stable I've been since getting my first job in the tenth grade. I have friends. 

I've always done well with change, with losing people to foreign nations or consuming relationships or drug habits. Really, I'm usually the one lost. Going to New York or Saint Louis or Prague... getting so caught up in to do lists that I forget I'm human, let alone the fact that other humans might by craving my attention. But in the past year it's exactly my past apathy that's making my current sentimentality so magnified. It's like I'm making up for all the coldness in one, giant, melting heart. I'm nervous for all these people to leave, to be in college for a fifth year. This is not just a matter of the three month summer hiatus. Now it's a question of if I'll ever see them again. Ever.

This answers Greg's question of what life is like without him in a fringe way. He can be categorized into a modified four of four closest friends, except he already left. GREG WILL I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN? (But I'm comforted because I refuse to let the answer be anything but yes. Monies first, Japan as soon as humanly possible...)

(Also, this is a failing attempt at semi-decent blogging, but an attempt nonetheless. More challenges welcomed.)