The last few paragraphs


Moving day creeps ever closer. Meanwhile, I'm up to my neck in assignments and appointments. They keep coming, and they don't show any sign of slowing down. I decided to take four classes over summer term so I could finish up my AA, so I knew what I was getting myself into. Still, it doesn't change the fact that my life is now almost 100% grind. I literally wake up at 0700, work for eight hours, do school until about 2300, rinse and repeat. I'm considering getting one of those shirts from the apparel section at Walmart that says "caffeine queen" in Pinterest letters, because that's truly what I've become. On the bright side, I'm able to listen to music while I work. It's nice to be able to get more well-acquainted with albums I've had on the backburner until now.

This weekend, my family wanted to squeeze in one last outing before I go off into the real world. I'm in the car on my way there right now, as a matter of fact. I have been growing more and more anxious about leaving the only place I've ever called home. I know it has to happen at some point, and that I'll have a good time over there-- still, I have never been somewhere so far away without an immediate family member close by. I just wish I could freeze time for a second and have a proper goodbye with each person who has brought me up. I suppose that's what this mini-vacation is supposed to be. I know I won't be gone forever-- and that everyone is only a phone call away, but from moving day onward, I'm my own person for the first time. It'll be different.

I hope I can find my place once I get to where I'm going. I've been separated from large groups of people my own age for so long, I'm afraid I won't know how to socialize. It doesn't help that I banished myself from the digital plazas that my peers frequent most: Instagram, TikTok, etc. I'm not saying I would ever go back-- but I'll admit I lurk Instagram every once in awhile, just to see what people are up to. Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing by leaving. It certainly doesn't feel good to be on the outside looking in, while I sputter and scream in an airtight bubble made of my own self-righteousness and pseudointellectualism. I know that I just feel this way because I'm not out living my own life; not yet, anyway.