(diaryland) January 31, 2013 - 10:04 a.m.

Imaginary friend: January

I saw you in lectures every now again. I mean, I knew who you were. I didn't know your name for years.

Over the four years of our degree, I didn't really notice how you changed from a spotty 18-y-o into a less spotty 22-y-o, going through style phases. Everyone was doing that, but there were other people who stood out much more in my mind.

You weren't in my friendship group.

Next time I saw you, you were in the graduate program with me at our firm. I think that was the first time we actually said hi to each other.

But I don't understand exactly why you invited me to your birthday party at the end of the year.

Your cubicle was kind of far away from mine, and you and the other graduates who were into collecting pictures of tennis players for your workspaces hung out together all the time, over there. Not sure why you were all specifically so into tennis players.

I spent my tea breaks on the roof, having smokes and maintaining the bags under my eyes.

You asked me to your party on facebook. It was at your shared house. I thought, sure I'll come. There'll be all the graduates from our work, and some people from uni, and all that. Should be fun. So I did.

Your party ended up being nine people around a dinner table. Half your family, and the other half friends from primary school, then me, wearing my crap black jeans, and my t-shirt that says, "Fuck Howard, fuck VSU," on it.

You talked to me about our uni days as if we had experienced them together. But we didn't. We experienced them apart. You up the front with your row of friends, always in the exact same seats. Me, freestyling it up the back, getting into trouble for reading a large newspaper, and walking out ten minutes before the end.

You didn't open the wine I brought that night. You said you'd save it for next time.

Two months after that, I went and stayed at a kibbutz for a while, like I always promised myself I would, and when I came back, I started working for these small accountants in Bentleigh. I don't know where you are now. You're still part of the melange that makes up my facebook friends: you're somewhere in the fog.

I wonder what I meant to you.