This is the millionth time I've tried to blog since June 6th. I never know just what to say. We graduated, all 42 of us. That's a lot of people to be separated from. And we're not going to see each other again, not in the same ways, not at the same times, not even at the same places. What can I say that expresses this? The frustration is what keeps me from writing. No matter what I say, how eloquently put, it doesn't bring us back together. Isn't it hopeless?
I've done so much since I left. I had the best two weeks of JCC ever, but it was too strange knowing I wasn't seeing my Burkies again. Every time I was having fun, I was thinking "Wouldn't this be so much more fun if (your name here) was with me?" Everything made me think of somebody, especially the music. Here's my ridiculously long list of the reasons:
The car radio played "Time After Time" several times on the way to Napa. In the same van ride, they played every song that made me need to cry. "I Believe in a Thing Called Love," that Emma and I rocked out to in art. "Hotel," the song that Rachel and Isaac "danced" to. "Roses," the song from the showcase. And "My Band," that Casey sang to Cara when she couldn't remember what song it was when she saw it on Casey's IPod. My Jason Mraz CD, that I listened to with Maylin and Cara. The songs I listened to during the play, backstage at school. And when I listened to "Sevens," by Garth Brooks, Mikey was like, "Who?" and true to form, I had the classic me-n'-Kelly-moment: Maria yells, "THAT RANDOM OLD MAN!"
Everything seems so sad now. Couldn't I have left Burke's in 6th grade, or even 7th grade, before all the good memories? Before I had the best year of my life? Guys, I wasn't just writing stuff in your yearbooks for the hell of it. I meant what I said, I really do miss you. Even people I was surprised I missed. People I didn't get close to, I miss you, too. The entry is for all 41 of you, mentioned and unmentioned.
So that just about covers what I need to say. It may not bring you all back to the same place with me next Fall, or even to the same contexts. For the many of you who have broken free from the shackles of ugly pleated skirts, pray for me. This time, mine is gray.

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