(i take no credit for that lyric, it belongs to the lovely yeah yeah yeahs and i'm using it as the title because i can't find the song on project playlist and you SHOULD be listening to it while you read this post.)
I'm sitting in my room, crying, actually doing something closer to leaking out my eyes, and listening to the yeah yeah yeahs, and thinking about taking up the rug and pulling down my posters, and understanding the finality of that action and reveling in all these emotions.
when, on a cloudy day, sunlight suddenly filters through the window, i feel a strange kind of hope that emanates from the inside.
I feel good about this, and yet I am terrified.
I'm in an ambivalent state, between grief and joy.
I'm not really saying goodbye to anything, because physically I'll be back.
It scares me to think I'm coming to the place where my home (here) will not be my home anymore.
But it's happy in that i get to try something new, to move forward and take with me all the things from behind that will help me through.
i'm just nervous, and it's keeping me from clarity on the situation.
i will remind myself that i'm doing a good thing and that more good will come from it.
i will try to not be afraid and i will try to balance the new and the old.
i will stop making declarative statements and instead i will do.
8.18.2009
boxes and boxes and boxes of rubble.
Er, of my clothing and life.
etc.
The only thing about college thus far that I find really and truly exciting is that I now own my own tupperware. Standing in my kitchen earlier today, contemplating (rather than washing) my new dishes, I thought to myself, "You are your own woman now."
And then I was like, "are you batty, they're dishes, come off it, etc."
Nonetheless.
I've packed away all my precious belongings and learned just how free it feels to have everything that matters to you, physically of course, not counting people and relationships and sunshine and your dog and all that, into the trunk of a car. Makes me feel like I could just go, and never come back.
And I will.
In three days.
Holy eff.
But I'll be back, because let's face it, lest I head off into the sunset with grandiose ideas about "eduction" and "finding myself," I am not an adult yet.
I still want my mom to do my laundry and cook me dinner and feed me love and soup when I am ill. I've had all these ideas about Freedom and Moving Forward, and now that it's time I've begun to stop and take notice of the truth, that all the things you'll accomplish and do in life mean nothing if you forget where you came from.
And so I refute the finality of this new portion of my life; it is merely a continuation, a new chapter, in the story where I become who I am.
At any rate, I'm out of my benadryl coma for the first time in days and though I cannot breathe out my nose I'm sort of waking up to the big scary thoughts I've been hiding from lately. I'm saying goodbye in little ways, letting go in small doses as regina said once.
And I'm excited. I really am. I feel good about what's to come, and there's anxiety and nervousness, but a surprising lack of fear. What happens now, just makes sense. I'm excited to picture myself in new places, doing new things with new people.I've spent my life wanting to go, go, go, and now I think I will find the time,place,way to sit in my skin and learn about me, and maybe be content not to know what's going on out there, to just take off my shoes, settle in and let the world go on.
All in all, all is well.
Go in peace and Color with crayons.
etc.
The only thing about college thus far that I find really and truly exciting is that I now own my own tupperware. Standing in my kitchen earlier today, contemplating (rather than washing) my new dishes, I thought to myself, "You are your own woman now."
And then I was like, "are you batty, they're dishes, come off it, etc."
Nonetheless.
I've packed away all my precious belongings and learned just how free it feels to have everything that matters to you, physically of course, not counting people and relationships and sunshine and your dog and all that, into the trunk of a car. Makes me feel like I could just go, and never come back.
And I will.
In three days.
Holy eff.
But I'll be back, because let's face it, lest I head off into the sunset with grandiose ideas about "eduction" and "finding myself," I am not an adult yet.
I still want my mom to do my laundry and cook me dinner and feed me love and soup when I am ill. I've had all these ideas about Freedom and Moving Forward, and now that it's time I've begun to stop and take notice of the truth, that all the things you'll accomplish and do in life mean nothing if you forget where you came from.
And so I refute the finality of this new portion of my life; it is merely a continuation, a new chapter, in the story where I become who I am.
At any rate, I'm out of my benadryl coma for the first time in days and though I cannot breathe out my nose I'm sort of waking up to the big scary thoughts I've been hiding from lately. I'm saying goodbye in little ways, letting go in small doses as regina said once.
And I'm excited. I really am. I feel good about what's to come, and there's anxiety and nervousness, but a surprising lack of fear. What happens now, just makes sense. I'm excited to picture myself in new places, doing new things with new people.I've spent my life wanting to go, go, go, and now I think I will find the time,place,way to sit in my skin and learn about me, and maybe be content not to know what's going on out there, to just take off my shoes, settle in and let the world go on.
All in all, all is well.
Go in peace and Color with crayons.
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