today i stood in front of that cold window again in the kitchen.
only two people live here now.
i tried to imagine what my roommates would be talking about in the kitchen if they were still here.
no, it didn't work.
it's too quiet now.
i remember not too long ago, standing in the same spot,
with coffee in my mug,
thinking about how many more cups i'll have,
checking the time constantly,
waiting for the party to start.
yeah and i remember moving in here that first night,
sleeping in the cold dark room alone for the first time,
curtain pulled up so i can watch the moon and the city,
window open so i can hear the pre-frosh yells of already-drunk first years on the street.
i remember crying myself to sleep and thinking "this is it this is it this is fucking it, right?
i've grown up way too fast.
is this really fucking it?"
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