don't forget me -- I beg

Odd that my posts here tend to be negative.

They also tend to be few and far between.

It's interesting to see how my time falls away into the little cracks of my life. I've been enjoying my time here, that's for sure, but I whittle away at it to wake up one day and find that I have less than two weeks of classes left. Ever, as an undergrad. Ever, at ESF. Ever, here in this little world I've carved out for myself.

And honestly? The very thought terrifies me.

I thought I was past this, you know? The silly tears as I watch myself in the mirror, hugging my sweatpants-clad knees to my hoodie-clad chest. The blotches and the puffiness and the way my swollen eyelids don't quite fit together the way that they did before I cried. The way the edges feel somehow mismatched, chafed, and raw.

And the way that lately, I can't stop.

It comes in waves, the terror and the pseudo-nausea and the sobbing.

I've had a lot to worry about. Applications and then visits - there wasn't nearly enough time between submission of applications and acceptances - and then the gut-wrenching decision. And I sent that email, clicked that 'send' button and felt horribly guilty instead of relieved, and I didn't feel much until my eyes were overflowing.

And I finally accepted, and I sent some emails, and I received some responses, and some days it seems like things are working perfectly except for me, like everything in my life is a well-oiled, sleek, precise gear except for me, and I have some edges that slip and stick and some serious inertia problems.

And then there was paperwork and the details that we called minor because I had to cross the mountain of that decision before I could face them, but from this side of the mountain they don't seem so minor.

Well anyway, the thought of leaving is something that, even as I write about it right now, I do not want to face. I have to distance myself from the thought. I hate leaving. I hate starting over. I hate change. And I am just praying that the first couple of weeks of graduate school don't see me sobbing over my lonely meals every night.

Enough of that, I suppose.

I'm just trying to stave off some of the crying for now. Baby steps.