I'm the main character now. It's funny; I don't think I ever quite expected it. Having friends at all to start off with, well, that was a surprise.

So when suddenly I'm talked about, here, there, hell everywhere, its kind of weird, to say the least. People that I know for sure would never have given me a second glance. And now suddenly, everyone knows my name. I'm not sure if that's a good thing, but one thing's for sure, they all know my name.

I miss the old crew, you know? I reminisce about it a lot. I bet if I could have seen myself now, I would have found it hysterical, and then probably told the unfortunate messenger that they were mad.

I got like that, after a while. Having friends, it was almost natural. I don't know; I came out of my shell I guess. Well, right about now I just want to crawl straight back in.

We used to have so much fun together. We were so… together. So united. Somehow, we drifted apart as we grew older. It's sad, really. It happens to a lot of friendships, I've noticed. For some reason, leaving school was the last straw. It always seems to go downhill from there. Everything does. It was surprising, really. After years upon years of adventures together, and loving each other and going through such terrible times, lasting only because we had one another, everything just fell apart.

The silly thing was, it was the little stuff that broke the group. Well, not broke it, per say. Just diminished it. Little nuances that started to get on your nerves. I can't explain it really. For some reason the romance of it just died. We grew up, and I guess that we found other people, other friends, whom we had more in common with. Exciting new people with interesting new hobbies. I think that was it, really. We just got too used to the company. We were still young, and we all wanted something new. Seeing the same people telling the same stories and doing the same things, day in and day out, becomes somewhat monotonous for a late teen. Looking back now, I'd do anything to get that monotony back again.

You learn that when you have the advantage of hindsight. Oh, if only we'd been more careful, less reckless, things wouldn't have turned out the way they have…

That's another thing I have to learn though. Not to be regretful. No hypotheticals – what ifs and maybes. It won't change anything now, and neither can I.

I know all this with a certainty, though, but it is a hard thing to actually believe in what you know, to accept it as the truth no matter how bad it is. It's taken me long enough, admittedly, to get this far, so when you have had enough time to yourself to know your own faults, it is much harder to correct them then it looks like. I do not know a single person who can admit all their faults without hesitating, nor do I think that it is even possible for someone to correct them, to get over their misgivings and shortcomings and little nuances. I think that if you did that, you wouldn't be human any more. Not really. Humans are full of faults and errors, and that's what makes us what we are. There is no use in trying to get rid of these, because by the time you did, you wouldn't be you anymore. Wouldn't be worth it. At least, that's what I think in the long run, anyway.

I suppose that I don't want to say what I know inside, don't want to acknowledge feelings that somewhere in my heart I know exist. I suppose its because I don't want to desecrate the memory of all the good times we had together, us marauders. I simply don't want to do it. To me, it would be almost… sacrilege. Hell, stuff being cautious about a religion I don't even believe in anymore. It would be worse then sacrilege. Much worse. It would be violating my own body, my whole being with the big disgusting red graffiti that you see all over the tube walls, disgusting mainly because it tells us the truths we don't want to know. Writing all over in those unescapable words "I am a falsity. My morality and my life have been a reflection of nothingness."

I don't know if you could understand that, but that is the reason for not doing it. I would not dare to violate some of the only good parts, happy times, laughter and loving I can remember of my whole life. It would destroy me, utterly and completely. I like to remember us as perfect, inseparable. I don't want to remember the unrealised pain of slowly drifting away from those who I knew, those who I loved better then any other soul I have ever met. No, I will not remember the painful reunions, the angry accusations. I will not remember the bitter lies and the false statements, the tainting superficiality and the disgusting awkwardness. The hidden truths and the veiled meanings. I have forgotten all that, forgotten as best as I could. There is no reason for me to remember one detail of it, one miniscule of its hurt. I will not remember. I have no need for such pain in my memory. Pain is something we remember all to easily, hatred is dominant for longer then love. I will not allow it to take over me. It simply does not outweigh all the goodness, all the pure innocence that made us who we are. The friends that shaped me and aided me to become the person I am now, to make it this far. Whether that be good or bad is up to you, and to you I pay no care, because this is my life, and wether good or bad those are people that make up the best parts of it in my mind. I will not hold ancient grudge against those who have held me up in the bitterest of weather. It is unspeakable, and I refuse to violate my memory. It is all I have left now days. My life in my youngest years is all I choose to remember, and hence all that I will.

All of life is a downhill trip. I mean, think about it. I have. When you're growing up, everything is good. It always is. No matter how crap your life is as a child, for some reason you always end up thinking that it's the best thing that's ever happened to anyone. Life is beautiful. You can't WAIT to get up in the morning, and see what surprises the day holds. Can't wait to grow up, can't wait to be big. Can't wait to get a job, fall in love, get married. Whatever your ambition is as a kid, it always seems so achievable when your old. That word used to hold such romance. Old was wise, it was smart and it was relaxed. It was doing what you wanted and being to boss someone else around. Oh, there was always so much possibility in the future. Every year was only a step up that was over so quick it was agony anticipating the next one.

Then you get older. Teens. Your trouble, but you still love your life. Its got the biggest ups and downs you've ever seen, and its like a roller coaster ride. As much as you pretend not to, you love it. New experiences all the time, new feelings, new ideas, an identity. It comes from a childhood dream, a sweet anticipation of what's to come. Sure, it's let you down a few times. When you fall its like the worst thing you've ever done, because you've never fallen before. But somehow it always turns out ok. Nothing can go wrong forever, right?

Wrong. As you keep growing up, life starts chucking disappointment after disappointment at you. Bad grades, stress, fights, you've seen it all. The responsibility is the worst part, though. You can never do what you want. Somehow there's always something, someone more pressing on your mind. Never get the time to do anything that you feel is remotely important to your existence.

Then, things start looking up. If your lucky, you're only in your early 20s or so, though it does come later for some, and you've fallen in love. Its what you see as the most beautiful experience you'll ever have in your lifetime. The birds sing for you. You almost feel like you're 5, anticipating the ice cream at the end of the day again. You're on top of the world. Hell, on top of the moon. You feel like you could fly. This person entices you, loves you, excites you, and appreciates you. And you the same to them. This is the one. You are going to be with this person for the rest of your life. You are going to marry them, you are going to have kids, raise a family with them. Then, they dump you.

And it all crashes down.

All your hopes, your dreams, your wishes. That childish optimism you felt for the first time since you found out that Santa doesn't exist. The beauty of the world.

Down at your feet.

And you go lower then you've ever been before. You feel like your absently dropping bits of yourself on the street. You wouldn't care, really. Life is miserable. To be perfectly honest, you wouldn't have cared if you died.

Then you find another. Not as good as the first, but good enough. They remind you of your first time in love, but you don't trust yourself. It's been years since you've trusted another with you're heart, and you've been right to do so. So when you find this other, and they take interest in you, and give you those little gestures again that remind you so much of last time… you hold on to it as hard as you can, without trusting completely.

It lasts a while, longer then the other one. You're not as much in love, but you know this one won't leave you. Somehow, with the pain of maturity, love just isn't so romantic and elegant, anymore. It's just a milestone in life, really. Somewhere you can say that you've been. You know your partner, they know you.

You get married, have kids. The kids are a pain from the start, usually. You love them, yes, want to raise them, to watch them grow. Want them to be just like you, but better. Want them to be happy. Love them more then you love your spouse, more then you love life. But it's still not enough. They're not old enough to understand you properly, and somehow they won't ever be. They'll never quite understand your feelings, and you resign to this with a sigh. It was bound to happen, and deep inside you, you knew it. It still disappoints you though. You watch them grow into beautiful people and watch them drift further from you. They go from asking for a cuddle to asking for $10 to go to the movies to asking if they can go out with a particular person before you turn around.

And so you descend in to the melancholy depression of middle-aged. No one notices it, because it seems you've always been this way, and that's what hurts you the most. That not a single person notices your pain.

You drag through days, through the dreaded routine of every day life, and each day it just seems to get worse. You don't even know what you're working for anymore.

And so it goes on and on, a continuous downward spiral that you like to call your life.

Anyways, enough of depression and melancholy. I'm sick of it. Went through years of it, and its rather off topic, to say the least. Once you've resigned to it, life's not that terrible. In fact, I would rather give anything to go back to what I once thought of as my worst days. I suppose no one, especially me, never really truly appreciates their life till they are dead.