Chances are, we’ll find two destinations…
- Five for Fighting
Dear Blog # 3,
What I’m feeling right now, are butterflies. Fluttering round in my tummy. I’m scrambling for words, but there’s actually only one word to say: Goodbye. Why is it that I’ve always felt that word isn’t enough? I don’t know. I just don’t think it isn’t.
Another thing, I’m not actually good at staging farewell speeches. Now, I don’t wish to bore you with proofs of my incompetence. So, move on. (I mean read on.)
I’m writing elsewhere now. So, for the final words…here.
This blog marks the months and a year I battled an illness, got baffled by my own immaturity, and was blinded by the words that I thought sounded cool (yeah, that is what really describes how I saw them). When they actually meant nothing. Only tiny translucent veils that attempted to conceal my vanity.
Eeewe (please bear with me, this is the last time you might hear these words from me), but the posts here were really icky. Not that I don’t love them. Oh no, I treasure them. Like entries in trusty journals of the past, I won’t discard any post. They’ll be kept safe here. They were the guideposts along my journey from immaturity to maturity.
I’m changing now. Unfortunately, I can’t take this blog with me to where I’m going. Oh, this is hard, but I think this is it.
I’m changing, less and less asleep
Made of different stuff than when I began
Thank you for all the lessons I’ve learned through you, as well as the friends I’ve made and the journey I had that can’t be replaced by anything, anymore.
Please extend my gratitude to these friends: Mia, Ate Sheila, Ate Kim, Desiree, Ate Honesty, and Ate Hazel.
Merci beau-coup, mon ami!
Au Revoir,
Shadee
PS I miss my French classes. I know. You’ll miss me, too. This side of me, noh? I guess I’m gonna miss myself as well. Schizo. 
