endings are hard but beginnings are beautiful.

A lot of the lessons we learn in life are obvious ones. They are reminders of simple principles, echoed in sentiments we’ve read before. There is no novelty in the words “with every ending comes a new beginning,” because they have been unfortunately and permanently damned into the world of clichés. Instead, the novelty is in how we arrive at these words. It is the promising beginnings, the uncertain middles, and the nearly heartbreaking endings that remind us of lessons we swore we learned already. It isn’t until we are carrying out our own unique stories do we truly appreciate the inevitability of painful endings dissolving into beautiful beginnings. Even though I can write these words so eloquently, I’m having trouble accepting them in the same fashion. The days in November climb higher and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to face the remainder of my time here with a positive attitude.

The most popular topic of conversation in Penrose right now, other than updating each other on the all consuming traumas and victories of our social lives, is how quickly everything is passing by and how soon we will be returning home. I’m in denial every time someone brings it up, often wanting to shove my fingers in my ears like a child and yell “I’m not listening” until the harsh pains of reality are numbed into a manageable murmur. Yes, I’m being very dramatic about leaving because yes, I am very dramatic about endings.