in the midst of packing up my life in little crates and trunks and tupperware, i came across pictures underneath my desk, the sides crinkle-cut as if it was about to be ready to put in a scrapbook, but never was, like everything else i’ve been finding in my house that i’m too scared to finish. finality and the concept of endings never sat well with me. finished products never suited me as much as half-finished hats with frayed ends with the crochet hook still stuck in two stitches to remind myself where i was when i come back to it at a later date.
something about seeing everything you own compressed into boxes and tote bags and crates and trunks is vaguely dehumanizing, like thinking about what they’ll do with your stuff at your death: that. your favorite shirt will be vacuum-sealed in a trunk of some sort, your stuffed dalmation you’ve had since age 6 will be tossed on top of the scribbled-in diary and the garbage you never remembered to throw out. seeing your life shoved into one corner of the living room: is that as much space as i take in this world? am i only the corner of a living room, waiting just to be carted from one area to the next?
and tonight was my final session with my therapist. oh, god forbid. severance was something i was never good at. when i broke up with my first boyfriend, i blamed everything on him, saying i never loved him, when i really was an incompetent girlfriend who really did love him. i told him i cheated on him, fucked 12 guys just to make him cry. and he did cry. he didn’t know that i cried harder. and i still call “cody” when i walk into my aunt’s house, waiting for the dog i’ve known since i was 3 to come trotting over to me, placing his paws on my shoulders and licking my hair. and i don’t cry at funerals, because no one is ever dead. at least in my book.
so how come i am so incredibly calm about going off to college? my mind is a clutter of everything to my views on gay rights and christianity to what i’m going to eat tomorrow for breakfast to how i’m going to survive without constant air conditioning and a ready supply of love from a cat i’ve had for 14 years. yet i’m strangely at peace.
“for i know the plans i have for you, says the lord. plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” - jeremiah 29:11.
i think i’m going to be getting that tattooed on my hip earlier than expected. i’m ready to embrace the change, embrace the changing tides like a baby sea turtle making the run from its egg to the ocean.