And to everyone I'm leaving behind

I have six days left, six more days in this city that I have called home for four years. I have said many of my goodbyes and still have some left to say. I have graduated with a bachelor's degree. I'm not a DePaul student anymore. None of this feels real. All of it feels painfully real.

I have cried more in the last month than I did in the three years before that. This is a victory. I am allowing myself to cry. I am allowing myself to feel. Yes.

Many people stay in the town they grew up in for their entire lives. I am moving across an ocean. I am incredibly privileged to be able to do this. I'm scared. I'm so scared. I try not to have any expectations, because what if nothing happens? What if it's not what I want it to be? What if I regret it? What if it is everything I want it to be, and I'm not enough for it?

I realized last week how afraid I am of rejection. How I won't tell anyone how much they mean to me because I'm scared that I don't mean as much to them. This is why I also refuse to call anyone my best friend (well, that and preferring to be non-hierarchical in how I categorize my relationships). I don't know what love is, but it seems to include wanting to support someone, wanting them to have everything they want, and enjoying their company.

I want to stop being afraid. I need to stop being afraid, I think.

It's very weird to me that a central part of my identity has shifted. I don't know if I can express how weird it feels. If I feel this weird now, knowing where I'm going for grad school, how will I feel when I finish that degree?

It's hard not knowing if I'll ever see someone again. It's hard letting them go. It's easy because I'm the one leaving, but it's hard because I care.

If there's one more thing I'd say, it's thank you. Even if you weren't one of my professors, I've learned things from you. I hope I have the strength and humility to remain in a state of conscious learning for the rest of my life. DePaul has given me some pretty great role models for that.

Thank you. (Now excuse me while I cry again.)