My grandmother was over for dinner today. She comes over every Sunday but this Sunday my mum collected her and my dad dropped her home. It's getting dark so early that she prefers not to drive now. When my dad announced that he was dropping her home I decided to go along for the spin. I love being in the car at night, when it's all dark and the streetlights are on. There's something beautiful about darkness. That, and the fact that I was a bit bored.

And as we drove over I began to realise that I actually cannot remember the last time I was over in her house. It's not that I don't see her, seeing as she comes over to our place twice a week, but in all honesty I had no idea when I had last been over there.

It scared me in a way. I thought I knew exactly what the place looked like, but at the same time I didn't try to picture it in my head. We arrived and we walked her up to the house, and popped inside for a few minutes. This is the house where I spent my time as a baby and as a toddler. When my parents went to work every day I would go over there and my grandparents would mind me, until my dad came to collect me on his way home.

I would talk to my grandparents, maybe go to mass with my nana, go out for a spin, go for lunch, or tea. I'd watch the Countdown or a snooker match with my granda, pick the lotto numbers for him, do some weeding in the garden, play with the toys in the toy box behind the couch, take out a colouring book, play with the neighbour's dog, and help decorate at Christmas. All these memories came flooding back when I stepped through the front door. What shocked me the most was the fact that the place seemed almost new to me, as though I hadn't been there before. I did remember it, but I had forgotten bits too.

That surprised me alright, but what scared me was seeing old age for what it really is. My grandmother, this old woman, has to spend ever night alone in that house. It honestly must be terrifying. I mean, I like my solitude, but having to be alone every night, that's different. And I'm a young 'un. I'm less likely to have a fall or a serious accident, or to be targeted my vandals.

I'm not saying my grandmother is in a depressed state, because she has family and friends that love her and who are always visiting or bringing her out. But as we walked up that wet path in the dark, and climbed those steep steps to the door, it made me realise some stuff.

And I just said I'd share it with the world.

A few nights ago I had a dream about this guy I knew. My ex-tennis coach to be exact. He was only doing it for the few bobs really, but out of every single tennis coach I have had, he is by far my favourite. He was a cool guy. And I dreamed about him. I dreamed about hugging him in front of all my peers. I don't know what that means. I'm not big into the whole interpreting dreams thing, but to me, it's like it's telling me that I miss him, and that I want to be close to him again.

He moved away, to foreign lands, so i no longer see him. But now I know other people; others who have followed in his footsteps in recent times. And I'm worried I'll lose them too. What sucks so much is that I'm not best friends with them, because I can't be. Who am I to them? Compared to everyone else they've left behind, who am I to be the one Facebooking them or on MSN to them? They leave, and you can't do anything else. Try and talk to them as much as possible and you look a bit stalkerish and desperate, because they're not your best friend.

And like that, they're gone. People you may have only just been getting to know. For me, it's only just starting. People you wanted to get to know so badly just disappear off into the sunset. College draws people like magnets. This time next year I'll be thinking about what to put down on my CAO form, and this time two years, alot of my friends will have gone their separate ways. It's a scary thought.

It feels like only yesterday that friends were made and lost in seconds; that school meant a day of playtime; and all my problems and drama didn't exist.