I really am going to leave San Francisco. My life really does continue to flow past, winding its way, babbling. It hadn’t occurred to me in all these months of waiting for friends, striding through the streets, queuing for tables or games or festivals or buses, that I wouldn’t do so forever; I never imagined I’d live here forever, but I conducted myself and my perceptions as though I would. Here, coming to the end, I feel like I always do: giddy, sentimental. But I’m getting older, too, fearful about my life and my failures. In all: a good weekend.
(via millsinabout)
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