For Your YearbookThis year has been one unlike any other. If I were to say it's all been fun I'd be a liar. I'd like to think I've learned all that I say I have from all that's happened, but the truth is, I don't know. Everyday feels like the beginning. A new aspect of the end. Everyone knows but no one's saying we may never see many of you again.
If I'd been more like you I might be feeling a different kind of sad, a wish you well type sad, I miss you's, forget you not's, great summer yearbook filler lines from so-called friends whose names you hardly know. To be packed away in the attic of your parents house among other things long forgotten before. And I'll shed no tears for reasons of my own. The silent ones know why. This is as close I come to sentimental departures. There's really nothing left to say. There's really nothing left to save..
so farewell. I want to say I wish you well. I want to say goodbye. I want to be the wish you well type most of all. I want to be the wish you well type. After all many of you I'll never see again, and I can't understand why I can't say anything but farewell. I want to say I wish you well. I want to say goodbye. I want to say I'm sorry; be the one to say I'm sorry and make everything alright. I want to be this wish you well type. I'm sorry. I can't be. That just wouldn't be right.
For a few staying friends, I'll write you in the fall I'll call you sooner than you can write K.I.T., B.F.4 EVER with a number on my hand, and seven more where I can reach you at, but I can't even reach you now. We're already so far, we're already gone. This is so hard. Why didn't they tell us it'd be this hard?