"Moments"
Packing my bags, I am. I'm packing my bags. Yes, those bags, they'll be packed. Except I wish they wouldn't be. I'm doing everything I can to drag it out because really, deep down, I don't want to leave. I don't leave you. I can't imagine how it would be without you near me. How this would've been without you near me almost all of the time.
I've packed bags a lot these past however long I've been here. I can't really remember how long; I lost count after the third day. Or was it the fourth? Usually they were packed quickly and carelesly because we were bugging out. My stuff got thrown in with yours and yours with mine and it didn't matter because we were both going to the same place. We were together and we'd stay together for as long as this took. And after that? That seemed so far away, so impossible, we couldn't even bare to think about. And now, here it is. I'm busy packing. Getting ready to leave all this behind. I don't have much things to pack because I already left once, you see.
The last time I was packing this slowly was when I was packing to come to this place. I didn't want to leave and come to that "hellhole on the otherside of the world". I still think of this place as "the other side of the world". I also think of it as hell, still. I always will. But you make it liveable. You keep me sane. I don't think I can live without you anymore. I need you.I need you here, in hell. I'll need you back home. Is it still home? But, here I am packing my bags. Leaving you. I'm leaving you tomorrow. You're leaving me tomorrow. We'll never see each other again. That's why I have to make sure it takes as long as humanely possible to pack these bags. Even if it means unpacking them again. And again and again. Anything to make it last longer. Anthing to make these last few moments with you last longer. It's all we have, some moments here and there. A lifetime of moments, it seems. I don't want it to end.
Maybe I'll put something of yours in with my stuff. Or I'll put something of mine in with yours. You'll discover you're missing something or that you've got something you shouldn't and then we'll see each other again and I won't have to live without you anymore.
We'll have our moments again.
Packing my bags, I am. I'm packing my bags. Yes, those bags, they'll be packed. Except I wish they wouldn't be. I'm doing everything I can to drag it out because really, deep down, I don't want to leave. I don't leave you. I can't imagine how it would be without you near me. How this would've been without you near me almost all of the time.
I've packed bags a lot these past however long I've been here. I can't really remember how long; I lost count after the third day. Or was it the fourth? Usually they were packed quickly and carelesly because we were bugging out. My stuff got thrown in with yours and yours with mine and it didn't matter because we were both going to the same place. We were together and we'd stay together for as long as this took. And after that? That seemed so far away, so impossible, we couldn't even bare to think about. And now, here it is. I'm busy packing. Getting ready to leave all this behind. I don't have much things to pack because I already left once, you see.
The last time I was packing this slowly was when I was packing to come to this place. I didn't want to leave and come to that "hellhole on the otherside of the world". I still think of this place as "the other side of the world". I also think of it as hell, still. I always will. But you make it liveable. You keep me sane. I don't think I can live without you anymore. I need you.I need you here, in hell. I'll need you back home. Is it still home? But, here I am packing my bags. Leaving you. I'm leaving you tomorrow. You're leaving me tomorrow. We'll never see each other again. That's why I have to make sure it takes as long as humanely possible to pack these bags. Even if it means unpacking them again. And again and again. Anything to make it last longer. Anthing to make these last few moments with you last longer. It's all we have, some moments here and there. A lifetime of moments, it seems. I don't want it to end.
Maybe I'll put something of yours in with my stuff. Or I'll put something of mine in with yours. You'll discover you're missing something or that you've got something you shouldn't and then we'll see each other again and I won't have to live without you anymore.
We'll have our moments again.