dear new readers: just as a forewarning, this post isn't particularly funny. although sarcasm, sexual innuendos, and unconstructive criticism tend to define this forum of unilateral communication, i am occasionally more open and honest than i feel comfortable with in a public setting. admittedly, it's mostly an effort to win oprah's "sharp, edgy, and unfailingly heartwarming" validation of my book/blog. secretly, it's because i'm into voyeurism.

my entire life changed this past week when i became the first victim of harvard's notorious, although well-documented, black monday.

last week, i lost my best friend when eric and i decided to take a break from our relationship.

although the policy about blogging or not blogging about the situation wasn't defined in the terms of our agreement, i have learned that there is infinite wisdom gleaned from talking about it openly. i have also discovered that what i make of the situation -- how i handle myself and how i conduct my life in spite of it all -- is a hallmark of the twenty-something experience.

one day, i can only hope to find some unsuspecting publisher to pay me to provide words that help make sense of that which troubles the twenty-something soul. but in the moment when hot tears sting dubious eyes, it seems that words are as incredulous as they are unsatisfying.

it turns out that making the choice to completely change the dynamic of a relationship so fundamental to our identity doesn't necessarily make the decision feel right. it doesn't necessarily make it make any more sense. and most importantly, it definitely doesn't make it hurt any less.

in a way, i'm having an identity crisis. and it's not necessarily because i didn't have my own identity while in the relationship; it's more that my relationship had become such an integral part of my identity that it is hard to remember what it's like to exist outside of it. admittedly, i'm not a victim of the circumstance; nor am i a passive bystander. but no matter on which side of the equation one stands (but just for the record: i'd be a liability if i had to stand on one side of the accounting equation), it boils down to one thing: this sucks.

i have been too busy in the unreality of overstudying, overdrinking, and undersleeping to grapple with the unreality of the separation. in my anxiety, i want to be reassured. in my grief, i want to be comforted. in my uncertainty, i want to be loved. the greatest resource i've found during this difficult moment is the people surrounding me who -- albeit new friends, connections, and future senators -- prove that these situations bridge the barriers of gender, race, and age. i am deeply grateful for the compassion that emerges when people share the pain that has been absorbed into the fabric of their own lives.

life is hard. we play the cards that are dealt to us. we make the best choices we can. and g-d knows we need all the compassion we can get. i suppose that i go forward from this moment sobered (albeit probably not sober), chastened, and sad. but we learn that we are strong in ways that cannot be measured by excel spreadsheets or pro forma statements.

it seems to me that love is the only thing on this earth that lets us see each other with the remotest accuracy.

and it makes me wonder: maybe life isn't about what happens to people. maybe it is about what happens between people.