leaving

It's funny, leaving a place, ain't it?" he said. "You never do know when you'll get back.

I feel like I might start crying and that I'm going to cry pee.

I don't understand how I can know so little about love and how it works. How I can be so bad at it when it's all I've ever wanted.All I've ever known is about leaving or being left.

Known for leaving, she asked me who I would consider sticking around for. I said, "The one who asked me to and meant it.

But that was all bravado. Already - how had it come about so quickly - desire had begotten need. A few whispered words (perhaps he didn't mean them) and I was ready to follow. It was worse to think of staying behind, to grind one day upon another. Nothing to hold me here. None to regret my leaving, save Az.

If I stayed here, something inside me would be lost forever__omething I couldn't afford to lose. It was like a vague dream, a burning, unfulfilled desire. The kind of dream people have only when they're seventeen.

I walked out. I left. Andy Jankowski had taught me how.

We are past the end of things now, but I don't want to leave.

Going away won't change anything if you're running from yourself.

I want my life to be the greatest story. My very existence will be the greatest poem.Watch me burn.Love always, Charlotte

the goal is to keep yourself moving, remember? don't linger. don't hover. you are not going to stay.

Yes, you're right. It's part of growing up, I suppose. You always have to leave something behind you.ü

they have seen the likes of you before, they may be intrigued by the looks of you, but they know that you-like everyone else-will leave them in the end.

There__ something about arriving in new cities, wandering empty streets with no destination. I will never lose the love for the arriving, but I'm born to leave.

Now, bring me that horizon.

When I'm all grown up, come what may,I'll build a boat to carry me away

Each time I say good-bye to a place I like, I feel like I am leaving a part of me behind. I guess whether we choose to travel as much as Marco Polo did or stay in the same spot from cradle to grave, life is a sequence of births and deaths. Moments are born and moments die. For new experiences to come to light, old ones need to wither away.

Leaving is an act that cannot be undone.