Thumper.

So I campaign long and hard to be able to go back for a fortnight and graduate, but now that I actually am leaving for Oz tonight, I find myself as half-hearted to depart as I was when returning to flogging-land about a month back.

I'm not sure what it is; maybe it's the whole having to pack like a maniac and squeeze everything (and everyone) into that small pocket of time. Or maybe it's the realisation that I don't actually want to attend the grad ceremony again (the original idea was to use it as a pretext to get to return). Were it not for the fact that the tickets are already booked and the folks have already taken leave from work -- note by the time I had this epiphany it was already too late -- and that I still have heaps of stuff left to bring back, I'm really quite content to skip it all and stay. I still have heaps of packing (and unpacking) to do, and my room is in complete disarray. I've only just unpacked post-Japan, and the amount of shirts that need ironing is insane...

On the other hand, I know I'll absolutely regret not getting to see everyone one last time. Argh! It's sort of bittersweet really, this wishy-washyness. It would have been a lot easier just getting the goodbyes over and done with the last time around. Now I have to do it all over again, and god do goodbyes suck...

***

I wanted to cry, to call out, to fight for the passionate love that we hold for each other - but I resisted. Perhaps its because I vaguely remember those boys, whose heart I broke - the pain that I endured knowing that I had hurt someone I loved. I've always told myself that I wouldn't be that person, the one who questions a decision that has long since been decided - that I wouldn't make someone I love feel unnecessary guilt.