They called us stupid, we called them
dumb; They bend and Break, While we over come.
Last day in my loft means one day closer to Malta. It’s weird—packing up my life is getting easier. I’ve always dreamed of the life where I could move city-to-city without worrying about belongings; I never imagined that day would come so soon. As I age, I’ve noticed that goodbyes are becoming frequent. The hugs are tighter, yet quicker and looking back isn’t even a second thought. I miss the elongated goodbyes. I want to go back to the days of the “I’ll never let go” hugs. And it’s sad that I find it easier to not look back at the smiles I’m leaving behind; I’d rather keep wishing/hoping/believing we will be together again.