I apologize ahead of time for this post. Excuse me while I feel all the feels.
I recently finished Haruki Murakami’s latest novel, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. Among other things, this book is about someone who had a very close knit group of friends and this group one day inexplicably shut him out. He met his friends when they were put together as team of volunteers to run after school children’s programming. Like many of Murakami’s novels, things get a little crazy from there, but that opening premise hit me not just a little, but way too close to home.
After my junior year of college, I took a year off to be a full-time AmeriCorps volunteer. I was randomly placed on team to run after school children’s programming in public housing developments. There was a group of us that grew very close. I’ve never felt better integrated into a group of people so fast. For two years, we had countless costume parties, laughed harder than I ever have before, shared multiple houses in different combinations of roommates, and fell in love with each other.
I have so many memories with these people. But they’re all tainted unfortunately. For the majority of this time, I was seriously dating a member of the group. He was my best friend. But near the end of my senior year, I reluctantly realized that he was not the one for me and that Andrew was. Plain and simple.
Well, he did not take it well and the rest of group saw it as grounds to shut me out. I’ll never get it, it will always make me sad and I have yet to get any closure. I have never heard anything ever again from him in particular and this was just a simple, “it’s not you, it’s me” break-up. I’ll never get it. This might all sound a little harsh and of course there are two sides to every story. Directly following the split, I tried numerous times to reach out to them with no luck.
The silver lining in all this? I came through with my girl Tate. She moved to Japan the same time Andrew and I headed to Norway. She has remained one of my dearest friends.
I see a few of these guys every once in awhile, whether it be for weddings or whatnot. Several of them shake their heads in confusion about the others and that makes me feel awkward. I have no clue if any of them read this blog, but if they do, I can’t say that I care.
I have album after album of photos that I can’t bring myself to delete. It will always make me sad. Not that we aren’t friends anymore, but that all my memories of that glorious time are affected.
I don’t expect you to have read this far. I’m writing this more for me than anyone else.In short, I recommend Murakami’s new book. It’s great and I meant to include some quotes, but returned it to the library before I could copy anything down. Typical.
I promise not write many more long, schmoopy posts, back thanks for reading if you have.