On to bigger and better things…

The sky was solemn. Clouds bunched together, and the sun gave up trying to push its rays through them. A humid breeze blew between my fingers, and I bit back tears.  I didn’t know anything for certain other than my gut told me it was right. Scary? Yes. But only because certainty had never resonated in me like it did now. I had made a myriad of mistakes, learned the hard way. I had loved, lost, and changed. I started thinking I had no reason not to believe in my dreams, myself…and for the first time in my life, there was progress toward everything I could ever want.

The packing process was as frustrating as one might expect, and with each minor disaster that comes with gathering one’s belongings was an inner voice repeating that I was on the right track or reassurance from the man I’ll be sharing space with for the summer.  I under estimated the amount of clothing, accessories, art, journals, mementos, and necessities I had to pack up, and what should have been one trip turned into two.  The weather became unpredictable, unseasonably frigid and windy to clear and sunny.  The highway was a catastrophic farewell from the Metroplex.  I can say with certainty that there are a great many things that I will not miss about that area.

Moving often fills me with a sense of dread.  I adapt well, but I dislike change.  This time around is different.  I am not afraid of what may go wrong; I am simply optimistic about what lies ahead and who I will share it with.  There is no lingering fear that I may have made a mistake because this feels so different from past experiences…and I know that no matter what happens, I have freed myself of some very heavy burdens.  My fear of failure has been left behind, and it’s time to break new ground and pursue those dreams I’ve held onto for most of my life.

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