at a distance by Victor D. '27

A few days ago,⁠01 at the time of writing one of my best friends from home, Ariana, posted a picture with a balloon spelling “21.”

Her birthday was about a month ago and I completely forgot! :(

I sent a happy belated birthday message. It made me really think about just how disconnected I am from people at home—some of the people that used to know me best.

Around this time 3 years ago, I was a senior in high school applying to college. After 17 years (and soon to be 18) in my hometown, I was growing anxious, antsy, and impatient. I really just wanted to get out of high school and away from home.

Recently, I’ve started to see these years in a new light. I’m starting to feel increasingly nostalgic for my experiences back then.

Our table in honors math freshman year. Quarantine bike rides. Picnics on the grass in Adolfo Park on a cloudless day under the oaks. Smash Ultimate sessions at my friends’ houses. Scurrying around campus during lunch to various club events and to find friends.

our picnic platter! (11/29/2020)

When I first tried to write this, I found myself rehashing a perspective that I hadn’t updated since high school. The words were bitter and, as I wrote it, I stopped and realized “Wait, I don’t think I believe that anymore. That’s not how I feel at all about it now, or at least my perspective is more nuanced now that I’m an observer to my past.” Sure, there were some abjectly terrible times during high school but, at the same time, I wonder if I spent enough time truly appreciating the good moments. At least I’m trying to do that now.

I miss my friends from home. I often wonder what they’re up to. When I see something I think they’d like (a funny quote, a duck, a video), I send a text with it. The truth is though, it’s been months since I’ve heard the voice of any of my friends from home. While I do keep up with their lives in some way through social media, it really isn’t the same as a proper conversation.

As I pass my halfway mark here at MIT, the memories of my past grow hazier. I’m fortunate my journal captured at least some of my thoughts from back then, for the person’s eyes who saw the world that way are dead, or at least have been subsumed through new experiences and contexts.

There’s a tradeoff: as key events in my life and the people from my past grow fuzzier, my mind fills with new experiences and new people. When my mom asks me “Remember so-and-so with the long hair—what was his name?” I often remember who these people are in theory but not really who they are—were? People pass in and out of our lives but sometimes we want them to stop and wait with us just a bit longer. In the rush of life, you sometimes don’t even realize when they’re passing out of your life. One day, you know who they were and then… they fade into nothing but a name.

I’m at a stage where I still remember glimpses from high school but the memories are shadows. What once might have sparked a visceral response now feels largely depersonalized and foreign.

Thinking about this past makes me sad that some of my closest relationships now only exist at a distance. That we don’t see each other more than 3-4 times a year. But at the same time, I find my past and continued relationships extremely compelling.

When I visited my friend Eyouel at UC Berkeley last IAP,⁠02 Independent Activties Period, mini term during January he told me:

“I don’t think we’re close friends anymore, Victor.”

Ouch. But it’s fair. We used to talk every day for several hours a day and now… virtual silence, for months at a time. What does it mean to stay “close” when you no longer share a daily life?

Another time, I was sitting with Ariana in the parking lot in front of Rolling Pin Donuts in Camarillo—the same one surrounded by a parking lot next to a car repair shop and a gas station my dad, my dog Ladybird, and I would run/scooter to on weekend mornings when I was a kid.

Ariana said:

“We have to realize that this is just how our friendships are now, now that we only see each other a few times a year.”

Ouch, again. And what exactly did she mean by how? Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that out. Part of it is the pressure to try to spend as much time as possible with friends and family when I’m home. Part of it is the scramble to fill in the gaps: what happened to this person over the past 3-9 months. And then trying to reciprocate, compressing an entire semester into a few highlights.

Except you no longer have the benefit of a continuous, shared context.

Part of it is reconciling who we were before and who we are now.

arguably my city’s most iconic landmark lol

These questions remain elusive, but I have a few steps to take that should help:

1. Carve out time to call more people. Unfortunately, the 3-hour time difference makes this really difficult, on top of everyone already being busy.
2. Lock in on actually starting my book club with some friends at home.
3. Respond to my texts consistently even as the fire hose propels me off the face of the planet.
4. Have an existential crisis because this will probably happen again after MIT. Except it’ll be worse, because everyone will disperse everywhere instead of mostly clustering in one place (California).

Since I wrote this entry, I actually have managed to call and message several friends from home (yippee).  But I’m still looking to answer the question Ariana posed: how our relationship is going to be going forward.

She did, however, tack one hopeful thing onto that rather sobering statement:

“But it’s so nice to be able to hang out and pick up where we left off as if we were never apart.”

:)