I used to hold balloons.
All of them together.

Now they rest on every finger, tied with single strings.
No collectives, no big bunches, all on single strings.
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So i can't wait until the day when i'll be out of sackville for good. or at least returning only for nostalgia's sake.
I'm sick of wind, i'm sick of classes, i'm sick of people who kind of know you, who kind of care, i'm sick of missing people, and playing it by ear.

i want plans you can count on.
i want warm summer beaches with friends that have known me all my life.
i want it to all fit together again- doesn't have to be the same as it was; it just has to be.

i've never had a best friend, but i at least want best friends.