be supportive of my friends during their big move

I did the best I could.

N and M are leaving Tuesday, so we’ve had our last Thursday at the bar, our last Saturday night Crown and Cokes, and tonight was our last Sunday night movie chill-out.

This really fucking sucks.

Every time it comes up – which is constantly – M gets all teary-eyed, and then I tear up and then it just all goes to shit for about five minutes. We get back on the happy track, and then it starts all over again.

I cried all the way home tonight.

I’m going to miss N like crazy, but that girl is the closest thing to a sister I’ve ever had. I’m still trying to be supportive and help her feel better ‘cause she’s scared and depressed as hell, but damn…I’m not doing much better.

Anyway…I’m feeling really sorry for myself tonight.

Tomorrow night, there is a set-in-stone plan for G and I to spend the entire night around their kitchen table. One last time for that. They’ve sold the table. It leaves Tuesday, too.

The big going-away shindig is set for tomorrow night. I’ve rounded up all the inviteds (over 150 folks…geez), lined up two bands and bought enough jello/tequila for close to 600 shots.

Tonight, we’ll make the jello shots, go on one helluva beer run, burn all the must-have music and secure any breakable items in their house.

You know, they may be leaving, but with a hoedown like this, we left-behinders won’t be forgotten. :)

Two of my bestest buddies, N and M, are quite possibly, more than likely, maybe definitely moving to Colorado in the next few weeks. A job opportunity has opened up, which is really excellent for him and them and everyone involved.

Except me, damn it.

I talked to N on the phone a bit ago, and I was just in shock. I couldn’t say, “hey, that’s awesome, brother. When can I visit?” or you know, anything congratulatory. I was mostly just silent. I can’t even believe this. I want to be happy for them, but I’m just not. I’m more like, “What? You’re leaving me???”

I’ve always been the one to leave – to move to college or moving home or spending summers away. I’m not the “getting left” type. I was just telling my editor about this a few minutes ago, and it almost resulted in a crying jag.

So this is me, resolving to be a big girl and help them plan and be excited and throw one hell of a going-away party. After which point, I will allow myself to cry and wallow in my miserableness.