This coming week is that dreaded "transition" week that I've put off thinking about. (I said months ago that I'd wing it. Aside from places picked out, I'm fairly golden with wide-open plans.) I'm going to pack up here in Columbia, go back to St. Louis for a day, then drive to and spend the rest of the week in Denver. Next Monday, I'll work my way up to Spokane, where I'll be living for the summer, once again.

I didn't graduate this weekend and I'm entirely okay with that. What really does bother me is the fact that I've spent most of the past week ill and bedridden. (Quick fact: I slept around 18 out of the 24 hours of Friday.)

What bothers me is that I'd considered this past week the last week, of my life as I knew it.

In hindsight, I can't remember a more stressful month since I moved to college. There are few things more stressful to me than the idea of closure, fast approaching. I like open-endedness. I like saying "see you later" instead of "goodbye." But what bothers me more than closure proper is poor closure or no closure at all when something comes to an end. (Example: any shitty, non-resolute but non-cliffhanger movie or TV show ending.)

Look, I used to live by the mantra of never regret anything (hand-in-hand with taking responsibility for everything you do) but lately I've regretted how far I've drifted from my friends here in Columbia. The popular conversation topic with me as of late has been "I haven't seen you in forever! What have you been up to?"

To which I'd normally reply with something about work or school. But the honest answer would really be more along the lines of "I don't know."

I've had the past year slip out from under me and I'm sorry about that.

If I never see you again, I wish you the best of luck. But I really, truly hope I see you again.