Maybe I missed that day in school when they explained how to break it off with or (even, Merciful Hour) just let go of old friends, because I have always been completely at sea with all that. I wish there was some sort of convention you could follow, as with romantic relationships:
Look, it's not you, it's me. You're a lovely person. I'm just not in the right place. Let's be fr-
-- oh, no, wait. Let's not be friends, actually. Let's not.
So there's that scenario: the old friend from whom you have grown apart.
Then, even more demoralising, are the friends with whom you share whole meaningful chunks of your life, but from whom you were forced apart by life or experience; these are often lovely people, but life or experience has somehow divided you. The one who married the fellow who failed to see your charms (THE CHEEK) or the one who gave birth on your due date, (such a kind, deep person. Sigh.), the Italians who you left behind in Italy, and seem to take this as a personal affront. The school friends who just seem uber conventional. The college friends who have emigrated.
This crisis is an annual thing, brought about by The Christmas. The Christmas means you send The Christmas Cards, and since my memory is a sieve, not a rolodex, I must consult this book of obsolescence, doom and melancholy:
Do you have such a thing? It is about 15 years old, which is old for an address book. Isn't it? Lifetimes have gone by. Divergent paths have been chosen. People have moved, died. It's full of crossed out dead addresses.
But. What should I do with the blinking thing? Put it out to grass? Hide it in a library? Slip it down the back of the radiator? Burn it in a midnight ceremony? After all, my now-friends reside in digital format now on my pc, that being the way of the world. So, out with the old?
Advice welcome. Have a good weekend, all.