There is something extremely painful about leaving one phase of life for the next. Because that's when you realise the greatest issue with time is the fact that time is such an unfriendly, relentless entity. There are times like this when I wish that I could turn back the clock, to enjoy the catharsis that work gave me. But I can't, because its over, and when it's over it can't come back. Time doesn't permit it.
Yeah, you probably realised, by now, that I'm talking about work.Or rather, the fact that I'm no longer working.
It hurts, but perhaps what is more surprising is the fact that the hurt isn't a constant ache. I can be fine one moment, and the next, the nostalgia of the entire 3 months comes crashing forward like a bowling ball and it manifests itself as a physical pain that swims just behind my eyes. It leaves me gasping. Sometimes I even feel like breaking down. But I don't, because well, that's just plain stupid to do so. Life changes, and one moves through one phase of life to the next, why can't I?
I think it just boils down to the fact that I feel like I'm resistant to change. I've settled my roots in here, only to have to uproot them again and move.

In any case, I could just summarise and say that I miss them. I miss them all so much. I wish I wasn't so sentimental.