Every time I leave it feels like I pack my whole life up with me.
Into compressed suitcases, bursting at the seams.
It feels like all my emotions and memories are stuffed inside.
It’s a very conflicting feeling.
To miss a place you haven’t left yet.
To not want to leave a place you hate.
And once you’re gone you know, you won’t look back at all.
But now that you’re still here, it’s sad.