If I had called up my best friends and family and boldly proclaimed to them back in February that after that semester I’d be taking some time off, heading back to work at my second (actually, more like my first) home in the middle of the woods, fall completely off the face of the facebook world, bum around on the couches of friends homeless and jobless, then come October just jump on a plain to New Zealand to hike, explore, and do god knows what all before actually graduating, jaws would have dropped, marbles would’ve been lost, and I most definitely would have been checked into a residential treatment facility for my mental health. So I did the responsible thing. I planned a perfectly acceptable and responsible adventure in which I would acquire my last credits
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