The end-of-project blues

Yes, it's that time again. Time for a project to end. Time for me to leave.

I've chosen a life where I am always going somewhere new, meeting new people, doing something for a few months or a year or two, and then leaving, never to see that place or those people again.

It's a nomadic life. And I chose it.

Once, I stayed in a place for a long time. I thought that somehow, being in a familiar place, with familiar people, doing familiar things, would make me feel better, feel more accepted, feel more at home.

It didn't. It only accentuated my alien nature. The longer I stayed, the less I fit in.

Now, I know. Staying among familiar people and places and things is not the point. The point, for me, is to have been in a place, to have met people, to have made my mark there, and to carry those memories away with me on my journey. I have an effect on the people and the places I've been, and they have an effect on me as well.

Onward and upward. What's next? I don't know. But everything happens for the best, in the end.