My Little Grief

I'm moving in with Lacey after I finish this trimester. I've turned in a quasi-notice at work, not written, but verbal, and got some cigarette boxes, and will be getting more, to move my books in.

I left my internship site a little early Friday, because nothing was really happening. I derped around for a few hours, and then I picked up and left for her town.

It was a nice visit, and we got the apartment semi-ready for my moving in. I wasn't terribly impressed with Columbus, but I really have my eye on Tupelo anyway. Columbus, living with my BFF, is just a temporary thing. I love her, she's my sister from another mister, but she's used to having her own place-and-space, and I want my own place-and-space.

All the same, she's looking forward to me living with her, and so am I.

But...

I got back home at 6 last evening. As I was laying in bed, it occurred to me that soon this wouldn't be my home anymore. I've lived in this house 16 years, most of my short life, and soon it wouldn't be my home anymore and I would be all the way up in Columbus, MS, and this wouldn't be my home anymore...

I didn't cry. I don't cry. But damn if I didn't feel like it.

It's the next stage in my life, moving out of my parents' house, getting a full time job that's NOT retail, and making my own home, and hopefully looking for a boyfriend...

New beginnings mean there's an ending to get through. I'm a sucker for a happy ending, and if I've learned nothing else from book series, it's that endings hurt a little. You're happy for the happily ever afters, but it took a lot of pain to get there. Also, the endings are always a little sad. There's a new normal to adjust to.

It's not too late to back out, but I said I'd go, and I'm going. I'm cutting the apron strings.

And hope I don't scream for my momma when all my shit's up there and the moving truck leaves.