It's really the end.

Over the past two weeks, people have been gradually leaving Montpellier to go back to their respective homes. It's a tiring schedule, really - each night is another goodbye party, another small sad feeling, another day ticked off the calendar. When classes ended, I thought I would have plenty of time relaxing around here to feel...complete? Ready to leave?

And I thought was ready, sort of. I love Montpellier but I felt the need for something new again, needed something past the endless perfect days: picking around the marche aux puces with Lia and Julia, laughing at the weird things people have for sale, laying on the esplanade or elsewhere with Chelsea or Nell (hi Nell! now I know you read this, you creep) discussing the absurdity of the night prior, emptying a bottle of Leffe and talking ethics with Alex, dancing to dance music with Matt...I'm going to miss it so much, but I guess there always comes a time to pick up and move on. I know everyone I met here - even the weird strangers (oof, there were a lot) had something to teach me. I haven't yet figured out exactly what yet, but I feel something.

Or at least I did while packing today, finding train tickets from various excursions, movie tickets for the Cinema Diagonal, fun little drink toppers from our favorite weird hippie bar, the box from my cell phone from when I first bought it...and that sad, helpless feeling knowing this great important thing was essentially complete suddenly surrounded me. It's hitting me suddenly, how this great plan to study abroad that I had dreamed about and planned for so, so long just ran its course.

I'm trying to feel vaguely happy about feeling sad, if that makes sense. I know it hurts because it's the end something incredible, some kind of crazy adventure. I know that feeling of watching the things you don't want to lose in the rearview mirror as they grow smaller and smaller behind you.