I noticed this while in the bathroom.

In fact, the people who have gotten in touch with me over the course of the last few months include, in alphabetical order:

Deana
Derrick
Jen
Jenn
Marybeth
Stanton

In all but two of those cases closure isn't there. In any case, I find that my life is not something that needs to be revisited.

My relationship with you died or failed, and that's fine. I move on. In fact, the only "rekindled" relationship that I entertain, the one with Vicky, is only because it's a friendly relationship. She knows why we didn't work, and so do I. We separated on certain terms and have only been casual acquaintances since then. I feel no pain when I think about our relationship. Perhaps dull regret for my youth, but only positive emotions toward her.

Perhaps it's that I've always made it a habit to move forward. I exert an inordinate amount of energy analyzing the end and then I let it go. Sometimes I decide it's fundamental incompatibility, sometimes it's apathy. Sometimes I don't give myself closure until very late in the process.

Sometimes it's a matter of wanting to catch up, and at those points, it's a matter of who you are. A lot of times, I don't really care. I wonder, yeah, but I know I'm not going to get anything positive from those conversations. I can't read the blogs of those who I've left behind, with one or two exceptions.

In the end, there's just a reason it's over. If you want to talk about it, go ahead, but I'm done letting nostalgia occupy my life.
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