Hurtling towards the void

For those who don't know, I'm in a band called License Server Hates You (usually abbreviated "License Server"). It consists of me (keyboard), Tesch (brass/guitar), Gallimore (percussion), Amanda (vocals), and DJ (bass/backup vocals), and we're performing "Army" by Ben Folds for the coming ExpressO (our prior performance of Muse's "Running Out Of Time" was well-recieved last year).

Anyhow, after a long practice we were walking out into the quiet, humid night, and we started talking. Even though it's November, graduation's rushing up on us. It's like hurtling towards a void. And when we reach it in 6 months, this place isn't not ours any more, and we're not its students and we're not each other's (even though we'll always be Oliners and have a strong connection). It's making a lot of us cling more tightly to one another at the same time as we're hungrily drifting apart. It's a phenomena that gets repeated every year with every graduating class, but it still hits hard when it's you in there.

I feel home, but I know it's a home I can't stay in much longer. It's not something I'm going to dwell on overmuch; there's plenty to do and a lot to appreciate while things lasts, and a lot of possibilities to move forward into. Still, it seems like you never really realize what you've got until you realize you're going to lose it someday. And that moment is an odd one, when it comes.