this latitude weakens my knees

i'm having one of those days where all i want to do is stay in, go out, dance, nap, eat chocolate, bake, obsess about tropical fruit, be silent, scream loudly and just about everything in between.

i finished my hums take-home a few hours ago. while i know i should be rejoicing, or jumping for joy, or something like that, the nostalgic part of me is holding firm, crying out that this is the end of some place and some thing with which i have become overly comfortable. i'm questioning if i've taken too much for granted, if long nights, black-on-white typing, glasses of wine, loud music and weird snacks will be forgotten now that there's nothing left assigned for me to say.

when i left for school, four years ago, my mom slipped a card into my things. i found it, of course, while unpacking, and have had it pinned on my bulletin board in plain sight for the past four years.

what she wrote to me on the inside has just now made the most perfect sense.

i've no compass, but a hell of a horizon.