Counting Infinity

I did my work per schedule (or tried to anyway). I showered and ate and slept and did all of the things that I needed to do regularly. And all in all, I felt a little lost. Like I was doing everything right, but right itself, was wrong.

---

I'm afraid of finality.

I've been through so many things, whether they be relationships or life choices or honestly just groceries, everything ends. As they should.

My problem is not necessarily with finality, but with our inability to detect the extent of finality.

Let me explain.

I've had several friends who I thought, and expected, to grow old with. They were my closest friends whom I shared so many thoughts and laughs and hopes with. I expected them to always be there through thick and thin, but most of all, I expected them to understand.

And the people who did, stayed. And the people who didn't, made it easier for me by leaving.

Do you think we'll ever stop being friends?

I'm not saying that I didn't enjoy those friendships. I share some of the greatest memories of my life with them. I'm glad that they happened because more than the lessons that they taught me, their mere existence satisfied the need for the comfort that I needed for so long. They satisfied my need to be someone else's number one. For a while.

And then I realized that maybe I cared much more about them than they cared about me. Or maybe I leaned on them way more than they felt comfortable leaning on me. Or maybe we fell in love with the idea of satisfaction under the guise of loyalty.

Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe I thought that I cared more than they did. Maybe I just made it easier for myself to not get attached beyond the point of return. Maybe I decided to burn the bridge to my heart and point the finger at someone else.

No.

Because it was easier.

Please please please please leave please please. It's easier for me if you go.

But it sure as heck didn't feel easy.

A part of me wishes that I knew that those friendships wouldn't last. I wish I didn't fantasize about growing old with them or our kids hanging out together and becoming friends and all those naive things that you think about when you forget that the world is unmercifully unpredictable. But it makes sense that life works that way. Otherwise why would you waste time on lessons you didn't feel like learning?

You hope I'll leave. But you shouldn't expect me to leave. Because that's not me.

But eventually any lit match burns out. It's only a matter of time.

It's okay that most relationships don't last. It's okay that people leave halfway and half-baked dreams pile up on your shelf. It's okay because I don't know how much more I can apologize-

or should.

No. I hope you'll stay. I just expect you to leave. Everyone leaves eventually.

M22 boasts nearly 50 unique nationalities in our grade. That means that students come from literally all over the world. And that means that in four years, we're all going to end up just as scattered as we began.

Maybe that's nice because every time you visit a different country, you'll have someone to say hi to. Or maybe we'll all stay connected. Afterall, it's the technology age and people don't seem to be getting any more disconnected. But I don't really care about everybody- to the extent that I care and depend on the few people I warily call friends.

Please. It's easier if you go. Don't make me have to leave.

I don't know how long this will last. And I've tried in the past, but how can you measure infinity. How can I know when, or if, our time will run out? I can't.

And I have to deal with it.

But better lower my expectations than get hurt again. Or should I?

Should I, instead, jump in again, knowing that I will never know the depths of infinity?

No matter how familiar they become.

Is the pain worth the happiness?

Or is the happiness worth the pain.

There is more than one way of presence.

And then another one left.

I think.