Still stuck in Nothingtown

This is my last night in Bloomington until August.

For some reason this goodbye seems different than last year. I can't really explain why.

Maybe it's because this time I'm comprehending how short my years at IU will be.

Maybe it's because I actually had to say goodbye to some really good people I know, some of whom I may never see again.

Maybe it's because this time I'm returning to a home I don't like. To a town I just want to get out of. To memories I don't want to relive.

Maybe it's because last year I only say adios to a city rather than to people.

Maybe it's because the last time I went home I hid from my problems with alcohol and I'm afraid I'll do that again.

More than anything, it's probably because this is the first summer I will have by myself in three years.

Tomorrow morning my dad will be here to pack up and leave. Fortunately, there are just enough people I want to see and enough work to do to fill up two weeks before I head to Missouri and finally Indianapolis.

Still, I don't want to go back. So much of home reminds me of her. Everything. My house. My room. My bed. My shower. The park by my house. Every restaurant in town. My car. My CDs. My kitchen. My yard. Every friend is mutual. I hate having to split time with people I used to be able to see whenever I wanted.

The last time I went home I would randomly find a shirt or book of hers in my room. I can't even count all the hours we wasted in that basement, just the two of us. I could tell you stories for hours.

And now we barely speak. I've seen her in person twice since December. Going home is like a different universe I used to occupy with someone else. And now she's gone, but I'm still stuck in that world.

The worst part is feeling that she no longer cares. That what we had is replaceable. That in the end what we had will go down in a laundry list of relationships.

I can deal with a break-up. They happen. Not every relationship is meant to last forever. But it seems like us not being in each others' lives doesn't even bother her. She's OK with our relationship deteriorating into nothing. With forgetting everything we ever had.

I wish the her two years ago could meet the her now and be as surprised as I am at how much she's changed. She's not the person I fell in love with as far as I can tell.

It would be nice to know that I didn't waste two years of my life on something that meant nothing. The person I once loved is a stranger to me now. Sometimes I wonder if it all meant as much to her as I always thought it did.

Maybe that's why I hate goodbyes so much. It's the acknowledgment that two people's paths may never cross again. That, at least for the short term, they are no longer in your life.

Do you know what it's like when every step you take reminds you of the one thing you don't want to think about? That there's no place in this town you can go where you didn't go with her? When every second is a constant reminder of better, happier times?

I do, and it's scary.

So no — this isn't goodbye. That's too final.

I'll see you later, friend.