For the last two years, I’ve had only casual, superficial interaction with the majority of people I spent ages five to eighteen with. Now, in some cases I’m thankful for this. But for the majority of people, this upsets me. Deeply. Luckily, I usually don’t think about this removal — I’m too occupied enjoying myself. But every once in a while, one my (male) friends’ profile will appear in my Facebook news feed, and I’ll realize that in the time between graduation and that fateful Facebook ping he’s grown a mustache, or a goatee, or even a full beard.
That’s when the amount of time that’s passed actually hits me.