An Open Letter to Friends

Hey, guys!

I feel like we haven’t talked in a while, even including that time when we were all together at the beach drinking bland, tepid beer. And I feel like we will have fewer chances to talk in any significant and vulnerable way in the coming days.

We live disconnected lives now. Margot has her bandmates and many other friends she can jump in and out of. The “Chubby Buddies” have their all boys’ club. Ari and Timothy (and probably the soon-to-be Dr. Remi, too) have their work. And Jordan and I have each other.

I wish I have a support group like Margot’s who’ll encourage me to pursue writing. I wish I have Jordan’s all-consuming love for Skyrim or Ari’s and Timothy’s focus on work to not care about how other people’s lives are progressing. I wish I have the camaraderie of the Chubby Buddies who always find time to see each other on weekends.

I remember when we used to scoff at Martin’s ex-girlfriend Lisa because she couldn’t understand why we always see each other every week. But now I’m no longer part of that group who see each other every week. And it’s not that I want to crash or be invited to these meet-ups. I just want to feel like I also belong somewhere. Anywhere.

You know sometimes I envy religious people because, by default, they have a community they are a part of. And at some point we were like that, a community of some sort.

Sometimes I miss that community. Sometimes I get lonely.

People are moving forward with their lives and it’s easy to feel like you’re the only one stuck in yours. We will soon be (if not already) busy paving our own paths and it will be one of those vague end-of-somethings again. You know that feeling? When you didn’t really say goodbye or end something in a definite manner but you feel like you’ve crossed a line and you can’t go back to whatever you had before. I feel like we’re getting close to that line because of our different priorities and interests. I feel like we will change in small and subtle ways that don’t really feel like change at all. Yet changes significant enough that the chemistry of the group is no longer the same.

I’m not trying to close any metaphorical door here. If at all, I feel like I’m trying to force it open as long as possible. And I don’t mean that we should stay the same people just so we could maintain our “group dynamic.” But I also don’t want to be the kind of friends who are perpetually nostalgic because the past is all they have in common.

This feels very high school, I know. But why does that have to be necessarily a bad thing?

If you can’t understand or won’t even try to understand what I wrote or if you think I’m being dramatic, stupid or sensitive, then maybe we really are different people now. But I hope that’s not the case.

All my love,



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