I’ve lost my wit.
Please return, I miss you so. I had become thoroughly fond of having you around and wish you were still with me.
I become disgruntled easily at my unfunny, adult, PC “humor” nowadays. It sickens me that I think such things are funny, even if just for a fleeting moment. I really do not wish to become 37 and friendless so suddenly and so young. It’s severely unfitting.
Missing you dearly,
It’s this house, this room, and the sound of this air conditioner we’ve had since I could remember. That’s what’s got me nostalgic right now. I’ve sat here for every summer since I stopped daycare, and every summer I’ve gone to Setebaid.
This one’s different, and it doesn’t quite feel it yet. I mean, I’m getting ready to ship out for a camp for two months, but not to Setebaid. To a place where I have limited contact with the people I talk to daily now. I’m excited to finally have a job I know I’ll love, but it’s turning into more bitter and less sweet, and more nervousness than excitement.
My summer’s are changing. Forever.
I’m not ready to grow up and move out - well, move away from what I’ve known. It’s terrifying because I’ve done it before and it was hard. I know this isn’t the last time I’ll have to do it, and this time will be easier, but it’s still scary.
I don’t want to change anything. I was happy with how it was going, but it has to change. My comfort zone is mine, and I don’t want to move out of it.
But if I’m going to ever grow and become something, it has to start here.
Nostalgia has always gotten me, and I think everyone knows that.
But goodbyes are my second biggest weakness, and in less than a month, I’m saying goodbye to people that I’m not guaranteed to see again. I don’t say goodbye to people, because I want to see them again; leave that door open to visits. But some doors are closing, at least for a long while.
I’m not ready for that. And you can’t make me be.