I’ve spent the last two weeks of my summer working, painting, steam-cleaning, just cleaning, packing boxes, moving boxes, writing poetry, and seeing people for the first time in months (most likely the last time ever again). I’m wishing my “old life” was gone. I have one more week of work, and then I have to arrange my own transfer. I still have to move all my belongings into my car so that I can drive them out of state. I’ve already moved on; I just have to get all these things done and I’m gone. Still. So damned tired.