I have been spending a lot of time contemplating why I am moving. I mean for financial reasons it makes a lot of sense. But the truth is I am also moving to get away from a boy. I do that quite a bit. If my heart gets broken it is time to scoot and I do. When the going gets tough for me emotionally I will leave. I don’t mean I’ll leave the situation, I mean I am doing to put a much distance between me and the source of my anxiety, quick and in a hurry.
I don’t really have feelings about the situation with GwtS very often. I mostly just feel numb about it. I will and won’t miss him but I haven’t seen him in over a month and I don’t feel bad about that. Seeing him might actually make me feel bad. I suspect it would. I have no desire to test that theory. But the truth is it is my fault I would feel bad.
Putting that logic into play really means I am trying to run from myself. That isn’t really possible but as my pending move grows closer, I feel more at peace with my decision. For now, this remains my best option. I have finally started packing, an aspect of moving that I despise. Packing is one of my all-time least favorite things to do but I am finally, emotionally, ready to go.
My head is clear enough that I can write again although I haven’t had much time to do so. Today I am making time. I have one big goodbye left. I am having a going away party Friday and after that I am going back to Klamath. But I am in pretty good headspace. I feel okay about going just not the packing. Fucking packing.