Today is my last day here at Macalester until September 1, and even then, it is still a first of lasts. I had my last lunch in Cafe Mac today. I had a grilled cheese that made me sick - so it was a proper sendoff. While last year the last day seemed to be full of friendly good-byes and organized good-bye brunches, today is much lonelier. I am much more on my own. Right now I am waiting for a DVD to burn in the HRC. I am here past closing hours. I don't know why it is taking so long to burn. This is pissing me off because I'm supposed to be moving out in 45 minutes. My computer will not be dismantled and my auntie will be upset with me. So it goes.

My head hurts and even the Diet Coke with Lime in front of me hasn't helped. My phone has no service and I am cut off from the world. It is dark and hot. What would an entirely dark and hot life be like? Miserable. I don't understand why this is taking so long.

I am not looking forward to summer. I am not looking forward to being the Kristina that is lazy and doesn't want to get in her car to go see friends because she thinks it will be hard work to see them. Distance is a strange love. I love it and hate it because of the conflicting emotions it makes me feel.

The spring was not glorious this year. Springfest was not a happy revelry on the lawn and the last week was not spent being distracted by short skirts and friends on blankets rolling around in the sun. There were no cookies to be shared nor movies to be watched outside on an itty bitty laptop. There were no 4 hours spent outside at night by the swings nor the idea of sleeping outside on the field. I will miss the tulips on Summit Ave, but they are the only thing spring like here.

I have grown. I have grown like the tulips and maybe I'm a yellow one with red tints. I am not a red tulip in full bloom. Hopefully that is yet to come. Maybe it will be in London; maybe it will be next semester when I learn how to cook and grocery shop effectively. Maybe it will be the summer of yearning and missing and hoping and losing.

Why can't I bring my mind to worry? Yet what is this discontent swirling around in the pit of my stomach - what is this constant pounding in my head? Get me out of here. Get me the hell out of Joisey.