To those of you who have shared my childhood (and it was a childhood, no matter what else I may have held it up to be):

.

It finally hit me. I never thought it would. It's almost a relief...almost. I can feel the tears burning the inside of my eyelids, ready to fall at any second. All of you, you incredible people, you beautiful souls who have set my life on fire - what can I say to you? The letter inside of me is too long to write. If I could, I would go back and describe every day, every night, every tear together that meant anything to me, but this would take a lifetime. Instead I will ramble on like a nostalgic fool.

You will all be gone in two months. Or, more appropriately, I will be gone, in a new city, in a new life. Oh my God...I've built up so much here, hollowed out so many wells inside me that can't possibly contain all the joy I've gotten back. I should have been crying a month ago, but it didn't seem real. Not that anything has ever been real, more of a dreamy haze most of the time. But last night, squished into a tent with all the crazy people who have wandered into my life and stuck like burrs to my soul, it finally materialized for me. This will be a memory soon; to be written, to be relived, to be cried over while listening to Radiohead in the dark. This is what I'm really tearing myself away from. Not high school - that was easy to leave behind - but everything that surrounded me, burning on the periphery of my life for all these years, slowly moving to the centre.

I can feel something coming; or rather nothing, like the heavy smell of rain on the horizon. I've been through it before and it was hell but it needed to be dealt with. I have this strange feeling that tells me it will be here by morning. It will fall upon me and not leave until I find a reason to feel. I know I will, but I hope to God it won't take too long.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for everything, for nothing, for in between. You will always mean the world to me, even if we can never go back to what we had. Good luck.

.

.

Sarah

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.