Thirty-six days until I leave this town,
the place that carried so many memories in its limited space,
if you were to take them all out,
you would never be able to make them all fit in again.
Like a tent that you can never quite fit back in the bag after the first time you take it out,
these memories, snippets of a time and life before, would never be able to fit just right again.
But, sometimes, to leave completely, means to leave the structure of what built you.
Like a bird leaving its nest for the first time,
you take what you have learned and hope you make it across the sky.
Like your parents taught you, (if you were lucky)
good examples of how to make it on your own.
Of course, there will be trial and error,
mistakes must be made to learn.
And when those city streets are alive with the bustling Saturday night crowd,
you will still be able to hear your heartbeat amongst all the noise,
and in those moments, you will know,
Intuition never lies.