I deleted the first draft. It took 25 days, 21 hours, and 37 minutes to do this. I'm not saying it's perfection, it's more of I did complete shit. I'm not perfect. I'm more of what you'll call a soldier. Follow the order to the T. Soldiers are meant to follow rules to the T. Obey the last rule of the captain's order. So I know I will make a shit, shit soldier. Ah, I don't know.

What I've been thinking about.
Two quotes kill my head.

“

“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.”
-Heraclitus

”

“

“Every moment of our life belongs to the present only for a moment; then it belongs forever to the past.”
-Schopenhauer

”

In the RTF editor, select each passage and its attribution separately, then apply the quote style. After the Schopenhauer attribution, put the cursor in “Well, I think this is my final time here” and change that paragraph to Normal. If new paragraphs keep inheriting the quote style, pressing Enter twice at the end of a quote often exits the quote block.

Well, I think this is my final time here. It's hard, that realization, that realization whereby when you go somewhere and you find out that that place has moved on without you, or you have moved on without that place. You know, sometimes you grow out of something, and the thing also in turn grow out of you. Not necessarily at all if you hated each other, but it's just time for both people to move on. That's how I feel.

What nobody tells you is how quiet a goodbye can be. Nobody fought. Nobody did anything wrong. You lived it, loved it, and somewhere along the way we both changed. Sometimes you grow out of a place, and the place grows out of you. It's mutual, and gentle, and it still hurts.

As it plays again and again, it happened again, "Silver Soul," that keeps playing in my head. It's the feeling of something familiar arriving again: the leaving, the ache, the knowing. I've done this before. I'll do it again. Being the one who leaves and being the one left behind are both just versions of the same thing, two people, or a person and a place, realizing it's time.

So I can't complain. A soldier doesn't.

To the ones that I loved - you were special
To the ones who also loved me - I would never forget. But in the meantime let the record play