Two weeks remain of classes. Then exams. Then home for the
summer. I won’t come back to Gordon for a year.
I just wanna cry.
For months I’ve been feverishly excited for Oxford. I still
am, underneath. But the realization that this year is nearly over is shocking
me, practically killing me.
I’m not ready yet.
I’m not done with friendships. Or exploring the woods. Or creative writing
courses. Or Marty’s. Or the quad swing. Or Beverly. Or dorm room conversations.
Or anything.
I want more time.
I chose this adventure. I didn’t acknowledge that I’d be
leaving one, too.
Ah. Your last line is like a knife. It's all too accurate but so beautiful in its tragedy.
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