I’ll miss this place

5/21/09
I’ll miss this place,
the smell, the noise, the silence,
because I’ve spent four long years here.
Four long years.
It’s a long time
to be in one place.
Hard to leave,
say, finally, goodbye.
That final goodbye
is coming soon,
I can feel it.
But I don’t want to say it,
I don’t want to have to say it.
It’s strange to uproot your whole life
and go into the unknown.
This is the familiar, the predictable.
I have to be somewhere at a certain time—
all my moves are dictated—
not next year.
It scares me
to know
that I won’t have to be somewhere
every second of every day,
not everything will be planned.
(Scares you,
you can go crazy,
with the infinite possibilities,
with all the decisions you have to make).
It’s difficult to disassemble your whole world you’ve created for yourself
and enter the unknown.
You have to make new friends and that takes time.
There’s no promise they have to like me,
have to talk to me.
Here
I know what to expect.
Sometimes it’s easier that way,
easier this way.
Easier not to leave.
But it’s happening,
it’s going to happen, it’s coming.
In a week I’ll be crossing that stage,
and I have to
I have to be ready.
Life’s moving on,
without me or not.
Am I going to keep up with it? I have to.
I’ll cross that stage and then drive those five hours down to college,
where I’ve chosen to make my home for four more long years.
And I have to be ready,
I have to be ready.
Easier to fake it,
the excitement, the air of composure.
But is it better to pretend—
or better to show you for who you are,
let it all fall down,
the façade,
and let them know,
let them all know
you are not some strong knight in constricting armor,
you are human, a ball of emotion,
and these emotions are filling you up and making you nostalgic
and keeping you from wanting to leave and you are scared.
Tell them?
Or keep it to myself, to my mind, to my pen, to you, paper.
Keep it pretend.

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