I am leaving in a little more than a month, and I was excited. Seriously, I was so stoked about going and pursuing my dreams, to leave nothing behind but the dust I kick up. Now...I am panicking. It is actually happening. I am leaving. And there aren't any present issues that I can't handle; I know what I'm doing. But the thought of leaving some of the people I've bonded with in the last year and a half...it is killing me. And I don't want to lose them. I don't want to miss out on my little sister's seventh birthday. I don't want to leave my new kitten to bond with someone else. And I sure as hell as not crazy about the idea of becoming a memory to my friends.
It strikes me, though, that success always must come with personal sacrifice. Is moving forward worth all that I am losing? I have moved before, several times, in fact, and I have healed. I am a relatively normal human being despite all the good-byes I've said. Will a few more be that terrible?
I've reassured them all that I will return, for birthdays, for Christmas, for summer, for what have you. I'm coming back. Everyone is excited for me, though many have begged my parents to make me stay. They all want me to do well and be happy, and this is what I've been aiming for forever. I'm doing what I always said I would. So why does it feel so bittersweet?
I will be frank: I may or may not have also developed a very singular attachment to someone, someone who has brought out a very singular woman in me. I've never felt like this with anyone before, never felt this kind of safety with someone, and we're finally starting to progress in our relationship...only to have him watch me leave. I have never, ever, hated myself so much in my entire life. The one time I feel like someone could handle the job of keeping me happy, and I am caught between my career and my love life. Do I really want to give up what I have here, with him, to further my life along? I mean, I'm really fond of the guy, almost to the point of...well...
The obvious but painful answer is, yes, I do. It hurts like a shot through the heart, but I do. I have to. Because I want to make a difference. And who knows? Maybe I will come back, to stay and rekindle old friendships, even old flames. I can't count on it, as awful as it is, but I have to make the choice with the least amount of regret behind it. And I know I will forever regret staying behind and not pursuing my dreams. Time heals, does it not? And my broken heart...it's going to need a lot of time.
Anyways. Being that I most likely will not be continuing my cooperation with the blog I have been working with for so long, due to my relocation, it looks like I'll be back on my old schedule, as best as I can manage. I will be writing poetry, along with my novel (I'm on page 71, guys!), and working towards my bachelor's. I just have to do what feels right...my only wish is that it was more black and white than this. But beggars can't be choosers, and I have to deal with what I have. God save me, I hope this is the right thing to do.
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