There are two days left. Two. I’ve waited eleven years for this moment. And now, I don’t know if I’m should be happy or sad. Where will all my memories go? To a grave? Or will I keep them in my mind, like an annoying ghost? All those laughs. All those tears. All those words. And now, everything will be thrown apart. There will be a fresh start, the turn of a page. Those mistakes. Those right choices. All those falls. Will they be forgotten? I hope the don’t. Because every second I’ve lived has made me what I am today. Yeah, I may be weak. Full of complexes. Possessive. Annoying. So what? For the last eleven years, people have loved me for that. And now I hope people will. But they won’t. And I know it. So I will care a fuck. Maybe they’ll hate me. Maybe they won’t. I won’t know it for a while. All I know is that I don’t care. I’ll never love anybody as I have loved my school friends.
