I am writing you a letter, though I have no envelopes to send it in. But for you, friend, I would buy 100 envelopes. Thankfully, Staples offers them in boxes of 45, so I don't actually have to.

You left without saying goodbye, which wasn't terribly surprising. Hinting at the end of an era, as we sat on the dock. But all good things must come to an end, and, as I technically left first, I can't really blame you. I have become adept at saying goodbye to people and places, but some things are still harder to part with than others. I have spent the last four years slowly unweaving myself from this place, but it's more of a challenge to separate myself from the people.

It's time now though, for both of us, to make our way out those doors one last time. I've said goodbye to the last of the people I care about. Or, rather, they've said goodbye to me.

So you will head your way, and I will finally head mine. But our paths will cross again, and often - if I have anything to say about it.

I want you to know that my admiration for you will never waiver, but there's still no fucking way I'm ever running a marathon.