Every thing is beginning to sink in. The idea of me being so far away is intoxicating. Are things going to be like this every time I leave? Because it sure seems that way. So you tell me. What would you do. Really. What would you do if you were me.

I still want to call home and cry my eyes out. I still want to just crumble. I still don't want to be strong. And in a moment of randomness while still talking about things that I want and don't want, I want to be able to see the moon. And see your smiling face one more time.