It’s really funny.
Victoria’s leaving after this semester, and Samuel told me last night that there’s a 30 percent chance he might be going to Australia to study instead.
Why does it always feel like every year’s going to be so, so different?
It hasn’t really sunk in yet that Vic’s not going to be there in a month’s time. I think when it does I’ll feel really empty.
It’s not an emotional kind of empty. You know, crying and screaming and being depressed. I think days will go by more in a daze, a blur.
Like when the wind’s really warm, and the air feels so bloated. And the afternoon passes by in a breeze.
Kinda like that.
And you just feel like something’s missing.
It’s like riding the train without music.
And you find another song again somehow. But I’m not really quite sure.
I’m not sure if samuel’s really serious about him going to Australia. I think it would be quite surreal if both of them left me one by one.
I think I would cry.
I asked Victoria today, “You know, if you know that you’re never going to see someone again, would you rather take the opportunity to spend as much of whatever time you have left together, or would you rather try to get used to the absence and stay further away? So that when that person’s gone, it wouldn’t be too painful.”
And she said, “That’s a good question. Well if the person’s dying, of course you’d want to-”
“-Spend as much time as possible before he or she goes right?”
“Yeah. But I’m not dying Rachel.”
I asked Samuel the same question, and he said that the second choice was just being selfish and not caring about the person who’s leaving.
I never thought about it that way before. Guess that’s me being selfish.
I guess, what feels the worst is how i’ve had this expectation all along that I’d be able to spend the next few years with these people. It feels like someone cut out pages of my book, you know?
I feel cheated.
I don’t know. None of it belongs to me anyway.
I mean, it’s normal to feel this way, right?
It’s only now that I properly thought about what it’d be like.
Because I just live everyday now like it’s going to be the same for a while even though it’s not.
I don’t quite really know what to expect, how I’d react when the time actually comes.
I guess what I’m doing now is treasuring every moment of it.
Which is what I should be doing anyway.
Crap I think I’m going to cry on the train in public.
I think these are the things that I really shouldn’t be thinking about at all. The more I think about it, imagine its form, imagine its colour, imagine how it’d choke me in my sleep, imagine how it’d haunt me in the day like a shadow, how it’d burn me and suffocate me in its ashes.
It’s not here yet. I don’t know when it will come. Or if it’ll be what I think it would. But something’s coming.
And something’s going.