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As I wait in the airport I feel anxious and calm at the same time. Calm because in a few hours I will get to see people I love; anxious because while I know the next few days will be spent making memories, I can only pray they are good ones.

So much of my life is spent in short bursts making memories that I spend the rest of the time reliving to tide me over. A weekend here or there replayed over and over until the tape is worn down.

I think this is true for most friends. You are either making memories or, perhaps more often, reliving old ones. Entire nights spent devoted to telling old stories of better times. I wonder if anyone else is conscious of this, the clear line between

As my life continues on in this way, the sense of dread I get every time I am about to leave has been growing. Dread because I am afraid of the power these future memories have over me. Dread that when our time is winding down, the klaxon of real life calling me back will be too much to handle. Saying goodbye has become harder and harder, even though I am fully aware that this is the way it has to be. We all have to go our separate ways, those times together cannot last forever, this is what you signed up for.

And I worry that the elaborate ruse, the long con that somehow I tricked these people into liking me, the house of cards that is our friendship will come crashing down. If this weekend is all I have and it goes badly, what will I be left with? Who will I be then?

So I will get up from this chair and get on an airplane that will take me to where my friends are. I will fly across the sky and by the time I land the anxiety will pass. It has to if I am going to be able to breathe at all. I will see my friends and make new memories and cry when it is time to go.

I have to, they are starting the boarding process.