Soon, my girl

I leave in two weeks. 12 days, actually. Holy crap. TWELVE DAYS. That can't be right. Twelve days. I'm 17 years old, I'm a high school drop out, and I'm leaving home in twelve days. And I still have nothing packed, have only gone through two boxes of books (that's out of 15, my friend), and....and...I don't even need an and, do I? I know that leaving home is an important step, and though I don't think I'm ready, I'm pretty sure that now is just as good as time as any. There's nothing left to do here. As it is, I'm just staying at home, working a little, but not doing much. I move, I start gaining my residency, I start going to college, I become a teacher, that's something. My dreams will never just happen if I stay at home.

But twelve days? That makes me want to stay at home, makes me want to find my little sister and tickle her and read to her, makes me want to chase the cats and then dangle lunch meat in front of them (they do tricks to write home about, I tell you!). It makes me suddenly not want to leave.

Most awful of all? I'm so stressed I can't even write poetry. Le SIGH.