It starts the way most endings disguise themselves, like beginnings.
We read it in group chats between class breaks, in half-distracted replies, in messages that arrive while we’re doing something else, until suddenly we realize we’ve been celebrating something that hasn’t even left yet.
We rarely call it leaving at first. We are too busy looking ahead to notice what is quietly slipping from our hands.
That is, the nature of change.
There’s a moment you don’t really notice until it’s already happening—when someone says, “next semester won’t be the same anymore,” and everyone laughs like it’s a joke, even though no one actually disagrees.
You are all becoming my Dorotheas.
Not one by one—but all at once, like group chats slowly learning how to stay active without everyone being present at the same time.
And I am happy. I do.
It shows in the congratulations I send without hesitation, in the way I say “I’m proud of you” like it doesn’t carry anything heavier underneath.
But later, when the room is quiet, I notice the smaller things.
The message that stays unread a little longer than it used to.
The “someday” plans that used to have dates.
The inside joke that now needs explaining before it’s funny again.
Nobody says goodbye.
They always say, “see you tomorrow” or “see you when I see you”
But somehow, we start talking like we already did.
It’s not lost in the way people expect it to be.
Nothing breaks. Nothing ends loudly.
It’s just the slow realization that everyone is moving—just not in the same direction anymore.
Like sitting in the same classroom, but knowing next term the seats won’t mean the same people.
And the strange part is—we still show up for each other.
We still cheer. Still reply. Still react like nothing is changing.
But something is.
Not gone.
Not broken.
Just… less reachable than before. Just as I expected it to be.
I think that’s what makes it hard to explain.
Because nothing dramatic happens to point at.
No final goodbye. No closing scene. Just life continuing—quietly rearranging who gets to be close.
You are becoming your futures.
And I am becoming the person who keeps noticing when
“next time” starts meaning “maybe not.”
