I'm leaving again, unwillingly. I've been leaving for the past eight years and it wears me out, harrasses me with dread, tires me with prolonged anxiety, makes my last week here a mere descent into future misery - the absurd pursuit of a college degree I'm not going to use, the deviation from passion, the delay from happiness, etc.
I suppose I'm horribly immature. I'm lots of things without meaning to.
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