Six days.
Six days.
Six days.

The reality of how little time I have before I go is hitting me like a slap in the face. In my head I picture my absence leaving a giant hole in people's lives, and then the part of my brain that stays sane and keeps me in check reminds me that people will probably go on living like they never knew me. Is it bad that I want people to miss me? I certainly don't want to leave a gaping hole, but I wouldn't mind people thinking of me from time to time... I really don't want to go. I really don't want to leave my friends behind. I really don't want to have to make up 2 weeks' worth of assignments. I really don't want to be so far away. I really don't want to be with my grandma (although I love her and appreciate how much she's helped my family lately).

I act like I'll be gone forever, which I know isn't the case...
But 19 days is such a long time.