I apparently have a lot of soliloquy in me these days.
I'm mad at her because when we first met she seemed awkward and out of place, too sincere and too goofy to be cool. And I don't want to think that I liked her because other people didn't, that I could be special if I had a small enough playing field. And maybe I didn't. Watching her become cool was the same as watching her become remote, because she was going places I couldn't or wouldn't go. And I know why she can, and does, and I don't. I could go along with the people, and do the things, but I don't want to, and she does. She genuinely loves these things, and I would be doing them because I want to belong which isn't good enough so I don't. And now it seems as if she takes so easily for herself what I can't take for mine, sometimes the specific thing I want, sometimes just the framework. And I am mad at her because I didn't see it from the beginning.
She is good, and kind, and sincere and goofy, and more people appreciate her than I expected. And I can't fault her or them for it. She is leaving, and I wish her well.