I Lost

I woke up on the morning of Sept 10th and felt there was something missing. I picked up my phone and realised it was a piece of my heart that I won't reunite with for another a year.
Tonight, I shall go to bed knowing full well that when I wake up tomorrow, another piece of my heart shall be halfway across the world.

We lose so much of ourselves each day that I'm amazed we're still breathing.... and when we put our palms over our chest, I'm surprised to feel something beating inside.
I started this page because I was heart broken that Mae left for Russia.
I still am. Yet at the same time, I'm not. Maybe this means I've grown up?
Isn't growing up a part of breaking hearts? Or is it the other way around?
Both occurrences happen so often that it's hard to differentiate one from the other. Do we leave because we love? Do we love because we leave? Do we hurt because love leaves? Do we hurt because love stays?

What now? Where do we go from here? Han's mom said that at our age, we're at a T-junction with a "No U-Turn" signs blinking in the neon-lit sky. We can turn left or right but we can't ever go back. Her words put me in an awkward position because she voiced the innermost fear I've had for the past few years.
What do we do when we can't go back? Not "if", because this is no longer a mater of probability. We're passed that stage 3 light years ago. Now we're like bed-ridden seniors lying on the bed just waiting for the inevitable death to arrive. Only we're the reverse of them. We're reluctant teenagers standing in line waiting for life to begin.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day.  Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel.  None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch.  And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones.  And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

 -- Elizabeth Bishop