Moving on

I always become depressed after I finish a book. It's as if the characters that I came to know have been ripped away from me, never to be heard of again. All that's left are their lingering dreams and the impact that they made. But I move on. I always start another story and at first I never really like the characters because when compared to the last set they just aren't the same. As the pages pass I gain new friends and come to love a whole other group of people in a whole different time. I identify with their struggles and their triumphs and end up wishing that it never ended. Life is kind of like that. You go from place to place experiencing new things with new and different people. You sometimes wish that you'd have a few lifetime friends to get you through those in between times but really when it comes down to it, you're alone. Friends come and go but always leave you with something.

It is this conclusion which prevents me from becoming sad that I didn't keep in contact with my friends from high school. I suppose I'm used to the idea of leaving things behind having moved numerous times throughout my childhood. There are always new people out there, waiting to offer you something different from the last.