I know what a terminally ill patient feels.


The hushed silences that surround them as they walk around.
The air of exclusion.
The not belonging.

To maybe emphasize their transience.


I am about to leave this world
my world here as I know it.


No I'm not moving onto heaven or paradise, but already I'm being subtly erased from the highschool-esque cliques at university, summer plans for hiking trips,
tea-parties past my departure.

As if everything revolves around the before-she-leaves and after-she's-left.

As if all my days here are numbered.

-eeda