I find myself pushing the people I love farther and farther away. I can't help it, its just been happening. Objectively, I can see it as the rather immature way of handling leaving that it is, ie that typical notion that if you hate what you leave behind then you don't have to miss it. But knowing it doesn't stop it. And I'm gonna be gone about
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That last sentence sounds trite, and I hesitate to say it. But it is true.
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I can feel myself fighting against nostalgic feelings. I tell myself that everyone else will be leaving as well so it's okay. But I know it's secretly not. I let little things bother me to great extends in hopes of saving myself some tears when we scatter off into different corners without each other.
Sounds like we're on the same boat. Those who are older and wiser say that we will get through this; let's hope they're right.
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