Leaving la vida T--a

How does one even begin to say goodbye?

Charing.

I've always associated leaving work with lightness--that feeling of being released finally from the oppressing monotony of a day job and the company of stupid people. This time it's different, maybe because I've been with T--a longer than my longest (and counting) relationship. And I've seen people come and go; go and come back; and come, mess things up, and get fired.

I woke up yesterday to the realization that I actually had seven days--or five days if I want to count out the unpaid weekends--left to work. It's always exciting to have something to look forward to. But as the weekend draws nearer I find that the dread and sadness are catching up fast with the initial excitement.

I don't want to be sad at a time when I should be panicking. Sadness slows you down, makes you lose your momentum, jams your gears and keeps them from turning. I measure time in pages now, such that every hour that I spend away from the book is easily 10 pages lost and unrecoverable.

So tama na ang kahibangang ito.

Maybe early next week when I have closed the gap between Article-where-I'm-at and Article-where-I-should-be, I can grease my gears one last time with the familiar laughter of friends, enough to keep them turning until September ends.