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I saw the stars twinkling above my half-drunken smile tonight. The air itself here can drunken - for it is so full of intoxication - Huron County being the highest concentration of drunk drivers in Ontario, that is.
I walked home from a party filled with beer, shooters, drunken conversation and tears. An odd combination, so it seems. The stars are freakin' beautiful tonight. I am consistently telling myself that it will only be a little while before I find myself in the arms of the city again, and my eyes will miss those stars that once shaun in those skies above... the skies that I never again will see once I am in the smoke.
It will be replaced by towering skyscrapers, planes, clouds, and pollution. But that is the price to be payed. I would glady pay even more than that to escape from the suffocation of such a sheltered existance here in small-town Ontario. Or all of Canada.
I have the stars on my wrist to remind me of my roots - of where I grew up and first learned of life - where I met my friends, lost them to distance and different paths taken, and left on my own two feet regardless of not knowing how or why or what I was doing.
I have the stars to remind me of where I was, and to remind me of what once was, and is no longer.
Goodbye, small town.
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