18 days remain before I must depart for St. Louis. In these final weeks of adolescent halcyon, I allow caprice full reign over my behavior, coursing for a head on collision with reality, whence I shall disintegrate with a simultaneous whimper and bang. Hot damn.
I play my fiddle even amongst the flames. What sweet ruin is this.
It feels so odd to move on after 4 years in this godforsaken town. Here, I have an identity. Here, I know the location of shortcuts, coffeehouses, secret make-out spots, resident hobos, and neighborhood eccentrics. This place, for all it's dreadful shortcomings, is home. And now I have to leave, goddamnit. Just when things were getting good.
Always leave them wanting more, I suppose. What shall the party scene do without me?
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