leaving

You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place, like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you'll never be this way again. 

The sea that calls all things unto her cals me, and I must embark.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. Such is life, imaginary or otherwise: a continuous parting of ways, a constant flux of approximation and distanciation, lines of fate intersecting at a point which is no-time, a theoretical crossroads fictitiously “present,” an unstable ice floe forever drifting between was and will be. The Adventure called and I followed with my thumb like a character being written by an intractable author. Which, of course, I was.

Life! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear, Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning; Choose thine own time; Say not 'Good-night'; but in some brighter clime Bid me 'Good-morning'.