So, I corrected the link to the drinking man's diet, because I realise that it was wrong below, and I want everyone to see the genius behind this diet. After sending it to multiple friends as like, the best diet ever, I have been informed that I actually have been eating like this for the past several years. Good to know.

Anyhow, it's strange to think that after six years of living in Providence, I'm going to leave and (most likely) never come back (to live that is, I'm sure I'll visit.) I'm not very good at adapting to change. I like staying in one place for long periods of time, because it's comfortable. (See: elementary school 6 years, el-hi for 9, then college/med for another 6. I have also spent nearly all of my life in school.) Plus, I hate moving with a passion. Anyway, back to my point. I don't think it had hit me that I was leaving, yet. At least, not until I talked to Stan at a party Saturday night, and he said, "So, you're leaving Providence? That's it? I might never see you again."

This just put me in a state of shock. Not see him again? I mean, Stan was the first person I met at college, whilst moving into my freshman dorm. And sure, we've grown apart a bit over the past year, mainly due to his acquiring a girlfriend who was jealous of our relationship. But, I don't think that it ever crossed my mind that I'd never see him again.

Yet, that's reality. There are people with whom you were so close once upon a time. But for some reason or another - moving, fighting, sulking, just plain laziness, whatever - you never see or hear from them again. Perhaps you don't mean for it to happen - but one day you wake up, and realise that one, two, five years have passed in the blink of an eye.

And then you feel like it's too late. That you should have made more of an effort before, but now that so much time has passed you really can't, you'll look like a moron. Or maybe the other person has forgotten about you. Or maybe s/he is mad at you and doesn't want to talk. Or maybe it's really his/her turn to call. Or, or, or, or... there are always so many excuses.

I've been on both ends. I've been the one who, deliberately or not, has stopped contacting people. It's usually a childish reason - well, harumph, they don't bother emailing/calling/writing me, why should I put the same effort towards them?! And then, I've been the one who doesn't get called/emailed/written. And then I just feel put out, and well, far be it from me to contact the other first. And so the vicious cycle continues.

Maybe I should be less petty, but you know what? I'm not, and while I realise that it's a major character flaw, tant pis.

And as a somewhat resolution to Stan's comment, I pouted and told him I wasn't talking to him again until he promised to visit me in Cambridge next year, which seeing that it's a mere hour's drive, really isn't too much of a strain. Of course he promised me that, I get what I want about 95% of the time due to mere tenacity and because I'm me.