I suck at goodbyes.

I really do.

There are giant gargantuan mountains hewn by God Himself outside my window that I should be picturesquely walking past saying my wistful goodbyes to, but instead I am holed up in my room with the remains of freezer bag chicken bites clinging to a plate and back-to-back episodes of The Mindy Project on Hulu. I so, so suck at this. 

I got the job. I got the job. They liked me. They liked me so they put a ring on it. I’ll have an email address and a name badge and I’ll get to forget Tupperware in the shared fridge like everyone else. 

I’m still so sad to leave. This is bittersweet. I don’t want to leave my XtraTufs. 

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