June 09, 2002 | 7:57 PM

When I move in to my own place, when I am alone, will I disappear?

Will I press delete on the answering machine without listening to the whole message? Will I forget to call back once, twice, a third time? Until there aren�t any more messages?

Will I spend weekends going to movies by myself, dodging the visits of people I am now too nervous to talk to? Will my primary friends be those I communicate with online?

Or maybe I�ll get to know people in class. Or from my building. People who haven�t known me since I moved here. People whom I can be new with and hear all their stories and tell all my stories. And the new people maybe will surpass the old people in importance. The old people will be like Special Guest Stars in my personal drama�like David Duchovny showing up for the occasional episode of this seasons� the X-files, but spending most of the time being conspicuously absent.

My whole life has been populated with road movie characters�people who further the plot, say an interesting line or two, illuminate a hidden portion of my character, and then disappear just when I�m beginning to care about them.

It never bothered me before. It never lessened my feeling for the friends I met who drifted into the past.

Why should this be any different?

Or maybe I�ll just get even closer to the old people. Maybe I�ll develop new ways of relating to people I�ve known forever. Maybe I�ll spend more time with them than I did when we were in closer quarters. Maybe they�ll be at my college graduation and when I get married and all the moments in between. On Saturday mornings snacking on whole wheat toast in my living room. Catching double features at the Brattle. Shooting pool back in Allston. Playing guitar on rainy summer afternoons.

Who knows what will be.

I feel more and more just how alone I am. I feel how close I am to solitude.

It is a strange New World. I�m trying to get my bearings.

I�m afraid. Afraid of who I will become. And afraid that it might not bother me that much.

Either everything matters, which is absurd. Or nothing matters. Which is meaningless.
--Graham Swift