I will miss my Midnights of poems, my late night thought bazaars, my tiny letters, my muses musing, the postman delivering surprises, hashtags becoming a new language, comments becoming stories, my heart going thump when a favourite writer liked my writing, highlights no longer remaining neon marks on textbooks, crimson no longer a sunset colour but my favorite font, statuses no more random videos but quirky puns, money no longer a crumpled piece of paper but a bouquet or a rose.
These were my little incentives, to not give up. To keep going. And I know that even if I feel like I have been shattered into countless pieces and that the world will keep moving and I will have to, I know that a part of me will stop. I will become a memory so that I can remember every detail and savour every second of this journey. I will not forget. Ever.
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