From the welcoming hugs of relatives who haven't seen me for a long time, to the teary goodbyes of now-former housemates, I can't help but feel that if I were to die today, my loss would be mourned. It gives me fuzziness and an uplifting, albeit morbid, jolt to realize that I am good enough to be sorely missed. In the end I might not care how far I've come so long as the journey was shared.
I bask in a strange feeling of freedom. Even with the Ten of Swords in the back of my mind, a sort of hope fills the air.