I'm a girl. This journal is almost 10 years old, when I started it, I called it Almost 21. Before that, I had a journal called Soap on a domain that no longer exists. Some things have changed since then, some things haven't. I always wanted to be a writer. I live out that dream here.
Four years ago the 'Blue Group' sang this song at the Geekfest talent show, and I cried.
It was the end of the two weeks of the Science and Technology Forum, where I met Jonno. I was in Orange, as was he, and I am sure that we (the group, that is) did many amazing things for our talent items, but the only ones I can remember are an informercial in which Gareth got his hair shampooed with an orange, and a few mock television advertisements (one of which I was in, but I can't remember what it was for).
At the time, I had thought the forum to be, perhaps, the best two weeks of my life. Although many things have changed, I still believe that it was one of the best two weeks of my life.
So many friends were made in those two weeks. Then, so many friends lost. I will fondly remember Dave, my favourite boy at the forum. Soft spoken, kind, caring and, in his own way, good looking. We spent the most parts together - hanging out, eating lunch, playing volleyball or cards, staying up late in his room and talking for hours. When we went on group field trips, I would miss him (alas, he was in Purple). I felt romantically inclined towards him - he didn't feel the same way, but this didn't bother me. The friendship we had was truly amazing, and that was enough for me.
The only people I really stayed in touch with were Jonno (because I had developed a huge crush on him), Oliver (because he was always online) and Alice (because I wanted her close because I thought she was 'competition' for Jonno - fortunately, my friendship with her has lasted longer than my crush on Jonno).
Jonno, Alice and I ended up at the same university. On my very first day at university, at my very first lecture (where I stood outside, waiting nervously trying to chew my nails shorter - an impossibility), Jonno was the first person I saw. It turned out that we had three lectures together that semester. My affections for him grew. His lack of return affections for these affections grew. And eventually, we grew apart, and through it, Alice was there for me.
She was also there when I first noticed Mike - or 'Surfie Guy' - noticing me. She was the only one who heard the real story of how I first talked to him. Unfortunately, during second year when all the bad things happened, she was on an exchange in Canada, and I found myself with noone to talk to about my dilemmas. No one to ask for advice. And things broke.
Second year.
It was over a year and a half ago, yet is seems that barely a week ago I was the cool "second year chick" that all Mike's friends tried to get with. Well, this is not entirely true - Craig never expressed any interest - but it still both shocks and amuses me that four out of the five boys, including Mike, would have had me, given the opportunity. Incidentally, two did: Mike and the Boy (who was at the time, his best friend).
Most of the time, there are no regrets. But there are odd spells, where I will have many regrets - rational and irrational. Fortunately, they are short lasting and soon forgotten.
Change never ceases to amaze and scare me. How much change can occur in the span of a seemingly innocent year. The friends made, the relationships encountered, the boyfriends and friends farewelled.
There are so many things I never wrote about, that now, I regret not writing about. Like the day Bart and I broke up, and the last day I saw him. Like my whole relationship with Clinton: our pre-going-out four hour phone converstaions every night; the first kiss, the first time we had sex; the day he told me he loved me (and didn't mean it); and the day we broke up. That was the night I cried and went drinking and got with three boys. (Interestingly, the first one was Mike the second was Boy - it was the second time I had ever kissed him. The not so interesting third was a guy called Ryan I met once at a friend's party. I have not seen him since the night I broke up with Clinton.)
Goodbyes, and the change that comes with them, have always been hard for me. Yet now, when I think about it, none of the past goodbyes seem as difficult as the one that I will have to make in a few weeks.
Mike will be gone.
I will not look around and find him sitting at the back of one of my lectures; I will not find him sitting at his desk when I walk into his office feeling down, or wanting a free coke; he will no longer be there to upset the balance in my relationship with Boy.
I know that this should have been done a long time ago. I know that eventually, it will be done.
And still, I am afraid of the change. But I am more afraid that there will be an empty feeling around me, that will not go away for a long, long time.