summerville

i stayed up well past midnight last night, after having a good cry about george's leaving and playing with my new computer for an hour. i just didn't want to admit that the weekend was over. it felt long and busy. i slept late and did exactly what i wanted to do, drank when i wanted to, ate when i felt like it. this weekend was filled with flip-flops and sun and dancing and boys and stubble because i refused to shave.

it was good.

i'm having a hard time dealing with my friends going their separate ways. when all's said and done, the only people who will remain from the original group of people i hung out with in baltimore, the little family i've come to know and love over the last three years, are me and hilary. two of us. it was awkward saying goodbye to george last night; i'll see him in a month so it felt very strange. it was kinda like, "well, i'll see you, but things will be different when i do. this is marking the end of something, even though you're acting nonchalant."

i got home from dropping michael off at his apartment and the flood gates opened. i stood in the bathroom doorway, leaning on the doorjamb, head down. terry got up from his spot on the couch and put his arms around me; he let me cry onto his shoulder. it was one of the few times we've touched since we broke up, and it didn't even feel that strange.

"times of transition are hard," michael told me last night after george left. he's right; and i get the feeling that the transition has just started.