I was rummaging through our art supplies drawers at home in SF. My old room. What was my senior yearbook doing there? Had to have a flip-through.
One of the most depressing half hours of my life. I read autograph after autograph. Of the legible ones, largely the same message: woot! what a great time...faith in the future...see you around, I'm sure.
The thing is, all the signatures are entirely illegible. So all the "glad I got to know you. Have a good time in SoCal. I always appreciated your dirty jokes" entries get blurred. It doesn't make a difference who signs and you have no idea who you "got to know better." Not to discount the friends with whom we've maintained close ties post Lowell, but I'm so tired of acquaintance-building.
You should do it though. This is a part of cautious Emily. I can't really help it, but you should help yourself to some.
In some ways, I'm almost looking forward to what will probably be a rather solitary, if not very lonely, summer in NYC. You know what I mean: you miss people so much (so much!), but if you ever have to run into anyone you know (who pretends not to recognize you) from high school at any fucking boba place on Irving...
Apparently really melodramatic today,
E. Mo.
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