I remember the last time I felt this way. The spring of 2005 brought me away from Gage towers with the same feeling of dread and helplessness. I remember the silent tantrums I threw, the anxiety, the fits of desperation, and attempts to clutch onto the dying time, ebbing away like the finest sand slipping between the cracks of my clammy fingers. I do not leave well, even from the things that are markedly bad for me, I cannot let go of because they are familiar.

A marker of my insecurity, perhaps? Probably. I'm not sure if this is something that will eventually change, that I will *grow* out of, or if it will be something that I will battle for the rest of my life. I hope it's the former. But for now, I will just grit my teeth and remember what Paco said, even if it...yeah:

Besser ein Ende mit Schrecken als ein Schrecken ohne Ende