what's the point of leaving? (her)

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Tonight is my last night in this town.

It's just as cold as the last one, but the air sits heavy in my lungs. Everything I think I might need is already packed in my luggage. I still have some organizing to do for the mess that is cramped on my duffel bag, but here I am staring at the stars from my window.

They're not as sparkly as I used to think they were when I was a kid. Now they all look bored and meaningless. I can't remember when was the last time I looked up and acknowledge their existence. From where I am sitting, they all look insignificant, like a tiny hole poked by a toothpick in this vast garbage bag that we call night.

From here, realization dawned me. Someday we'll never get to have the same night sky as we move through Earth or as the Earth move through the universe.

It doesn't matter how or when we will not see the same night sky again. All that matters is that it will happen without any excuses. Because that's how it should be. That's the law of life. And we, humans, could only abide.

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