Mark brings up a great point. If semester had ended a week ago, like I really really wanted it to, things would be awfully different. It's with a certain bitterness that I pack my odds and ends into boxes. A haphazard impatience like I'd be consciously anywhere but here because of what it means.
There's a lot to consider as the mornings become bearable and blue, as we pass on into summer and everything is soft and warm and strangely foreign.
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