going away

And it seems that an entire childhood of transition from constant moving would have prepared me for this.
But this is much different; the tides are as unpredictable as hindsight is clear.
The past is placid lake which serves as a backdrop for family pictures.
A carp rolling on shallow river beds throwing up clouds of mud is indicative of the future.
No longer am I the one struggling to fit in.
Every incoming student will be going through a similar process.
And for once, I will be on top.

Regalia of childhood memories keep me awake on nights like this. I should be excited for this experience, but I seem to focus more on the death of child-like dreams and aspirations.

I'm cynical at best, even on the days where the sun breaches dense foliage.