Leaving. Departing. Abandoning.
I've been thinking a lot about these words. Right now they encompass my feelings in every way. I carry every letter in these words like a time stamp, a countdown of sorts. And isn't life itself a countdown? That idea really resonates with me because it gives me hope. It allows me to find time in this #path called life.
At work I'm always complaining about the haunting idea of aging. My coworkers laugh, maybe even with a little fear themselves, that it's happening to all of us. I always say that 22-28 "sucks" because we're no longer waiting for anything and thus removing that sense of waiting. Waiting is what shifts our "time paradigm", it makes time feel longer.
So when I think of my impending transition, I'm constantly thinking of how long it feels but how short it really is. I am but a month away from making the single most dramatic change in my life to date. And I won't call it the most important, because by now I've made a number of important decisions. But it is the most dramatic. In a few short weeks, I will be presented with situations I've never experienced. With rewards and struggles beyond my comprehension. And it's taking forever to happen, but I'm thankful for that. Which is probably why I'm obsessing over it so much. Part of me knows it's coming no matter what and wishes to slow down the process. All in an attempt to remind me that most of this "now" will be gone in a blink of an eye.
A necessary departure is the embodiment of this.