this place

i don’t want to write these words. i know i will write these words, or these words twins, or whatever you want to label them as, again and again in the upcoming months and months after that but right now these words are eating me alive and as I listen to the song composed of Iida and I’s words, our late night drives, our screaming at the top of our lungs, our memories–well right now, the words are spilling out of my fingertips i can barely keep up.

i am a pro at saying until later. i am good at saying goodbye too, although it is something i have done less than i have said until later. both things i hate, but both i have become better and better at. i know that being apart by distance doesn’t mean anything when friendships are real–i have seen that, lived that, feared that. but i have also seen the opposite…

i am not concerned about loosing my Cottey sisters though. i know we will be one of the former, at least if i have anything to do with it at all. here is what i am scared of, what i am worried for, what is stuffing itself down my already narrow lungs: leaving this place. people you can take with you–people you can put in your pocket and carry around via Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Skype, Google Plus, texting, calling. people are portable in a way that they didn’t use to be. but places? they still aren’t. places stay even when you leave, even when i leave. and here is a confession that is obvious but one i try to hide nonetheless: i am going to miss this place. i am going to miss this place so much my heart hurts even to type these words. i look at pictures from graduation last year, of people who are no longer here, who were once so much a part of this place, of Cottey, and my heart cries. i will miss these beds, my and Beka’s together forming one. i will miss the passdown shelf. i will miss the Disney puzzles on the table, the tv, the Wizard of Oz ducks on the shelf, the cones all over the floor, the table, the chairs, the sofa, oh how i’ll miss the sofa. i will miss our kitchen, our bathroom, these showers! the door to our suite covered in signs that makes it ours. i will miss the horrible carpet here and in RBAC. i will miss RBAC, the desks, the chairs in 109, I will miss Raney, the action of scanning my card, of walking through the hot line, the food service ladies, the cleaning ladies. i will miss my PP, i will miss Chellie Club and the chapel where we go to celebrate each other. i will miss the Senior Sidewalks, the erie feeling of the CWL, i will miss the library, the way it smells, all of it. I will miss the front desk where I sat for so many hours as a Golden Key, I will miss the Missouri Recital hall, the gallery, Woods, I will even miss Walmart. I will miss it all.

Stop though, you say. what are you doing to yourself? it isn’t here yet. stop.

but I can’t. I can’t hide from it any longer as i have before because now I can see the end. it’s so close i can touch it and my heart is already starting to break into so many pieces i don’t think i’ll ever find them all again.


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