My Recycled Soul (Part 3, page 1 of 18)


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Part 3

The day of leaving flies at me with unexpected speed and I am sad to say goodbye to my room, my house, my street and most of all my friends.

I cry discreetly in the taxi, all the way to the airport. At the airport, I walk a few steps behind my family, letting them lead me away from everything that makes me who I am.

The tears continue running down my cheeks silently on the airplane, no matter how hard I try to swallow away the sadness that has become my every moment.

My mom sits next to me, and while I stare out of the little window to my side, trying not to sniff too loudly, she leans closer to me. She whispers softly, "Stop crying, Elizabeth. Change makes you a more independent and emotionally stronger person."

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