Not gone for good, at least

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He's gone.


No, not dead, I have to remind myself that,

it could be worse, he's not dead-


But he's gone.

He's quit.

He's resigned.

He's left.

He's not returning next year-

that's how he put it.


But he said to keep in touch

and he said he'd help out in any way he could

and I believe him because I know him

but it doesn't change the fact that

he won't be there.


I know he's not abandoning us,

and that's what he was afraid of,

that we'd think he was abandoning us

or that he didn't care about us

and that's the furthest from the truth.


Even though he really is quitting,

I don't call it that.

He's not quitting out of cowardice.

There's a difference.


It makes me terribly sad to see him go,

but I still managed to smile

and tell him to have a good summer.

After all, we'd still be able to talk,

and he'd still come to visit,

and he offered to help in any way he possibly could

and I knew he would,

I knew he'd give everything for this club

and for his students

and for his school-


A school that doesn't want him,

a school that doesn't appreciate him.


That one woman,

thinking she's so damn smart,

running off all the decent teachers

with her horrible, rude, loud mouth-

She was the only one who didn't appreciate him

and that was enough for him, wasn't it-?


I can't fully grasp

how I can be so full of sadness,

how I can want so badly to hug him

and tell him everything would be okay,

while simultaneously

wanting to rip her throat open

and make her wish she'd kept her mouth shut.


I managed to keep from crying,

at least until I left his room,

then every sob was another punch to the chest.


No one else seemed to share my feelings,

not even when I told them the news-

and why should they?


He told me first

because he knew I cared the most.


Is this what they meant

when they said that junior year

was the most difficult?


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