Envy and loneliness are ugly feelings. I won’t go into any details regarding the sources of these emotions, but it took me some time to even acknowledge these feelings. I battled them for the better part of this week before I noticed a pervasive melancholy that accompanied my waking hours. (Note: this has nothing to do with graduation, although I’m not terribly excited about that either.) Even today, my boss noticed I was more glum that usual.

To be honest, Mark’s visit last week was the most enjoyable outing I’ve had recently, outside of hanging out with David. I don’t feel stressed in any way when I’m around my old friends. I suppose I feel more like myself with them. I don’t need to impress them; they think the world of me already. I simply can’t judge them; we’ve known each other far too long, and have experienced too much together for me to make blanket assumptions.
Funny. It used to be the other way around. I looked forward to getting away from my old friends, as much as I love them. There is a danger in being around the same people all the time. The danger lies in growing too comfortable. And I like challenges. Occasionally it seems that it’s more difficult to grow and change as a person when you’re surrounded by people who expect you to behave a particular way. Or who want to shove a thermometer in your mouth when you behave out of character. But I suppose the friends who are willing to roll with your inner turmoil—who encourage your desire for betterment even if they don’t understand it—are the pals who stick around when the others shake their heads in bewilderment. 
Unfortunately for me, I left a majority of these good friends in Southern California and I’m usually too tired or busy to make the effort to get to know people on that level up here. To be sure, I’ve met some amazing people in my two and half years in San Francisco. People to write home about, as it were. Yet it isn’t quite right. I know it’s largely my own fault for not digging my roots more deeply here. Perhaps I can change that after graduation.

But I think I have digressed. The envy is self-explanatory, if you care to think a bit more deeply on it. However, even if I wanted to, I can’t exactly explain the loneliness. I’ve been craving a deep connection with someone other than David. He’s a given, which is nice in itself. But it isn’t quite the same as calling up Tony to grab a slice of pie at Polly’s and just jabber over coffee for hours. No one else I know purposely says things to rile me up, like Noel. And I definitely need to indulge my cheesy romantic side with Damo some time soon. I’ve only mentioned middle school and high school friends so far, but the Union kids are just as dear to my heart. I miss random drives with Matthew, belting out Weezer’s “Buddy Holly” because that always seems to play on the radio when we’re hanging out. I don’t particularly like affection, but I don’t mind when Kathy assaults me with her tongue.

Ah, well. I need to set up a time every week when I can meet with Paul or Guevarra for drinks. Maybe I’ll start feeling more like myself if I get a weekly dose of hometown flavor.