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Right...the days before. The day before yesterday Alec and Alpha Kate and I talked for a long time, really about nothing in particular. The lab has this odd film noir quality about it in the evening. It's a second home in a way.

Yesterday was exquisite. I remember that impression distinctly. I...I'm not sure what I did. Oh yes, I went out to lunch with a huge group of my friends and Mom and gram. It was odd having everyone there with me in the spotlight. I remember being charming and the conversation drifting through biology, and then to dogs. Thomas and Paul were at a separate table, intimately dicussing Shadowrun and math. Mom smiled at me at one point and asked how I got involved with all these math and comp. sci. people. Though I didn't say it at the time, geeks are the first kind of people that find my intellectual tastes interesting. That and they're accepting of my distant demeanor.

Or maybe this was some days ago and it was only a simple lunch. Things have run together in a happy fat glob. I remember yesterday night with distinct clarity: the magnificent Italian restaurant we found, the balanced perfection of majoram and several other herbs complementing a lightly baked chicken. Ah but the tiramisu was fantastic, rich, orgasmic. Every bite brought me back to that centre were things feel right.

Today I graduated. The ceremony was traditional, the faculty I knew warm and thanks giving. I wore old black slacks, my black polyester shirt complete with stylized blue Eastern style dragons, those damned old and worn sandals and finally my trench and fedora. People afterward kept commenting that I was "the man" and really distinctive because of the hat. I didn't understand but smiled and nodded...smiled more for the photographs and all of the friendly people surrounding me. It's been a long time since I felt like I was integrated.

Dinner went equally well. It was a good last meal at the Mandarin, with a spicy sesame chicken that was moderate to good. My folks dropped me off near the building that has the lab, which we refer to as the "radiator," since, ah, it looks like a giant concrete radiator. Kate and Alec weren't there. I wandered around the building, knocked on the secret back door, came around looking for them again, went to the store to get munchies, came back, went to Omega Kate's to say goodbye, came back and waited more. I felt like a puppy dog. I had to see them off, I couldn't miss them. I eventually moved back to my room, moving to unlock my door with my key.

My key...where the hell was it? I could only hear change rattling. The familiar metallic clink was there. I turned my pockets inside out, mumbling to myself as I did it again and again, movements becoming more unstable. I couldn't take it: my not seeing them, noone being anywhere, not being able to get back in. Later on I found out the key had slipped out at Omega Kate's.

Some sick slow feeling has replaced the fear as the night progresses. Sortof a subtle "there's nothing left here or where I'm going, where do I go and what do I do now?" desperation. When I heard back from Colleen a short while ago I thought maybe I could talk with her for awhile, catch up and maybe forget. Yet, she seemed distant and taken by her own problems. At least she's semi-ok as far as I can tell.

No, I shouldn't be searching for a conversation. I had one earlier with Alec and that should be good enough. Ah, but speaking of conversation, I said goodbye to Erin the night before last. It was during this Japanese latern illumination festival, complete with a full steel drum band. She smiled tentatively and we hugged goodbye. I tried telling her that she'd taught me alot and other stuff that suggested I still loved her, but I don't think it sunk through. I tried explaining in a later email, but she'll never reply to it.

It's funny, caring deeply about people who don't give a shit about you. I don't know why I bother asking or trying. People are delusional about their pain, I damn well being no exception. All that's left is a vague feeling of uncomfort in her eyes, some smile forced into what might seem acceptable for some bygone idiot trying to connect.

Every time: sex and death. Fuck, every time I do something sexual with a friend it just burns the whole bloody friendship up into ashy bits. Sex is a festering evil plague, for me at least. It seems sweet enough at first, but it leaves nothing but misery in its wake, just a series of isolated incidents to twist around and tear at like an old teddy bear. How sentimentally endearing and incontinently old is this, this throw rag.

I can't help the feeling when it comes, but I can sure as hell hate it.

So, more packing.

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