I’m flying to Houston next week for my visa paperwork. I’m putting in my two week notice in three weeks. I’m looking for apartments and talking to potential roommates.
It still doesn’t seem real and it won’t solidify in my mind until I have to start packing my bags.
It’s so close yet so far. I’m scared to leave New Mexico and my friends. But I’m excited to get out of the monotony of daily life. I’m happy I get to leave all of these stale relationships and places.
I’m also really overjoyed to get out of my parents’ house.
A friend made a good point the other day. “Out of all of us we dodged DWIs and teen pregnancy.” Sadly, this is almost the exception to the rule. The fact I’m alive, single, and carefree is monumental at my old age of twenty-three.
It’s amazing that if you asked my eighteen year old self what I’d be doing at twenty-three she’d probably say, “I’ll be in graduate school for communications in California.” I think she would still be proud of what I’m doing anyway.