Meghan's Metamorphosis: "We're Different" - Musings on friendship
<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Meghan. She came on board months ago to write for us, and then very unexpectedly had her life change. No like for reals - her first email to me was how she was in this relationship ... and how awesome it was ... like literally a week later, they broke up. She hasn't been able to write for months and is now dipping her toes back in the water. I only have one more thing left to say ... HIT IT MEGHAN!!</editorsnote>
#TalkNerdyToMeLover's Meghan Brown
I’m a big Grey’s Anatomy fan (shut up). It’s my show. I love it best, even when it’s soapy and stupid and ridiculous and hello? Did I not tell you to shut up? Because I’m pretty sure I did.
ANYWAY. This week’s episode concluded with the remaining three members of the original Seattle Grace gang sitting around at Joe’s. Karev was apologizing(ish) for a comment he’d made earlier about George (WHOSE DEATH WAS VERY TRAUMATIC, THANKYOUVERYMUCH).
Alex: “O’Malley wasn’t a creep, OK? I just don’t like thinking about him because then I have to think about Izzy and I get all sad and sappy. George is dead and Izzy is gone, and we’re all different. We’re different.”
Ouch. Ouch the most.
We’re all different. And we really are, aren’t we? I look at my college friends, my high school friends. We’re all different! What a wonderful, terrible thing, to be different. To be grown or close. Self-sufficiency. Congratulations, us. We’re not in Millbrae or Irvine or Burbank anymore.
But I miss those co-dependent college days. Those high school nights spent singing in the car. I miss the days when my friends were like my family. I miss sharing books and music like secrets, sharing secrets like songs. I miss feeling like there were people who knew me better than I knew myself.
Because now? I know me the most. Learning to stand on my own two feet. Getting myself together. Putting down the phone and opening up Ommwriter. I’m on my own this time.
Relationships change. Everything does. I’ve lost the numbers of the people I used to call first. The first boy who felt like a brother hasn’t spoken to me in years. Girls who felt like sisters drifted.
Not all of them, of course. I’m remarkably lucky to have kept in fiendish touch with the vast majority of people I’ve been really close to throughout my life. But… even then. We’re different. It’s not the three of us at every party. It’s not movie dates and grocery shopping. It’s not a life entwined. And sometimes… sometimes I really, really miss that.
And I’m worried this just gets easier. Letting everything go. Realizing that we’re not the same people we were at sixteen or twenty or twenty-five. It won’t ever be the four of us, or the five of us, or the two of us again. It won’t ever be us against the world. There are new soldiers on our sides.
Progress, ladies. Progress. Yum. Ouch. Yum.