dust,
dirt,
bags,
work.
stuffed nose,
scratched toes,
all for the sake of the move.
making time for friends
is not an option
so i sit,
and write,
hoping someone will find me,
hold me,
tell me it's okay.
but the people that can,
are packing up.
packing up the rooms,
the beds.
and most importantly the memories.
they tell me i'll make friends wherever i go,
but is that true?
is it really true?
or will i just
sit,
cry,
and not know what to do,
when my friends and i
g r o w   a  p  a  r  t,
find more people,
people better than me,
that they will befriend.
those people will be better than me,
so it make sense why they would leave me for them.
i understand,
i'm alright,
it's my fault for moving
right?
the annoying question;
why are you moving?
that i can't answer,
even though i know the truth.
goodbye my friends,
even if we don't see each other again in this life,
maybe if we don't live around each other in this life,
if we stop talking,
if all i have left are the memories, good or bad,
i will hold on to them,
for this year,
was the year,
i met so many people,
befriended lots,
and was almost,
almost,
truly happy.