I sat on my couch, surrounded by my pictures, and realized many of them didn't have dates written on their backs. I'd never remember when they were taken if I didn't write it then.

      As I wrote the dates, I wrote the names of all those pictured. I don't want to forget them, any of then, but I know I might.

      There's a girl I used to talk to all of the time, quite literally. She meant the world to me, and I guess I still can't think of a world without her. I hadn't talked to her in a week or two by the time I was recycling my memories, still half drunk from a night out, late, late that Saturday in November. I looked at her picture and she was smiling. I remember loving her smile. We're close in the picture, and I remember loving the times we were close. I remember loving our friendship, and I remember loving her eyes. I remember loving when she'd hug me, and I remember loving that despite however many people were in the room, that We were together.

      I remember thinking those thoughts of love. It was three o'clock in the morning, I was still buzzing, and I didn't remember her.

      I remember thinking she smelled nice. I remember not minding that her hair always got in my mouth--that happens with every girl. I remember thinking all of those things, but our friendship escaped me at that moment. There's a certain sickness that overtakes you at the moment you realize closeness widens and if you don't hang on tight, you'll drift away from those you love before you've noticed you ever let go.