So Mark left yesterday. His empty room with its cave-like echo was too much, so Carrie and I closed the door. I always comfort myself when I have to say goodbye to someone with the thought that I know I'll go visit them. I've gotten used to long-distance friendships, I know I'm the sort to track down friends and drive somewhere to see them. Not to mention e-mail and aim making people feel like they're closer than they really are. So I was thinking about all those things as I walked back into the house yesterday afternoon. But then part of my brain ruthlessly pointed out that visiting mark can never be the same as living with him, and that's something that I will (probably) never do again. I immediately regretted sitting silently over lunch with him, and every other missed opportunity to talk to him more or spend more time with him. Which is incredibly lame, I know. I hate that I fall into that trap of "I'm going to make more time for my friends" when something happens or someone moves away. le sigh.