Facebook is Making Me Melancholy

I succumbed, finally, to the intense pressure to get a Facebook account up and at 'em, and after becoming thoroughly disgusted with that other one, I decided I didn't have any more pride left to lose and what the heck.

It's kinda nice, because my MySpace account is based around my alter-ego, the name of which is generally kept quiet from a certain group of people (close friends, family, coworkers, anyone) in order to protect them from the rather uncouth behaviors that naturally occur as a result of hiding behind a mask of a secret identify. So my Facebook profile is me, for once, and I'm able to share the everyday little things with old school friends, my siblings, anybody. Usually this is incredibly boring, for the most part, since communication tends to be an occasional poke or wall posting.

But I found Jeff.

Jeff (his real name, hopefully he won't find this and sue me), was my very best friend in my last two years of high school. A brilliant and talented artist, student, comedian, dreamer - you name it (anything except for 'jock', as you might have guessed already). I owe any sarcasm talents today to him - he had a sharp, quick self-deprecating wit borne of years in a small town with small minds that neither appreciated nor understood him. The only reason I keep my high school year books prominently displayed and easily accessible is because I like to return to his highly detailed and very personal artwork pieces that are scattered throughout from when he signed at the end of the school year (yes, I went through a 'Hellraiser' phase, who didn't?).

We stayed in touch our first couple years in college, mostly via letters that Jeff wrote in an expressive hand and decorated with more original cartoons (my favorite was his 'What Really Happened to the Excess Material from Cathi's Reduction', it was hilarious and terrifying and mostly accurate). We saw each other on occasional holidays back in our home town, and, inevitably, fought because he fell in love with a girl that I hated and thought was a stupid tramp who was only using him so we lost touch.

Over the years I tried looking for him in different ways, and even asked my mom to tell his dad to call me (very high school, I know). I sent emails to what I thought might be his email address. But no luck. Or, maybe, he just still had some lingering grudge. I hope not. I hope he gets my little pitiful Facebook message and responds, and I can talk to him. I'd like to tell him that I cared for him more than he guessed, and that if I'd been a smarter/better person in high school I wouldn't have chased after his better-looking but jackass friends and would have appreciated him, and his loyalty and friendship, much more.