I recently turned twenty-one and I feel like my life is slipping away all together too rapidly.
I recently decided to take me own Leap Of Faith in an attempt to "Jump Over The Moon"...
It's a scary proposition, but I've decided to leave the only home I've ever known.
Make a clean break of things and head out for parts at this moment unknown.
Everytime I turn around I feel like I'm just facing more dead ends. This is a breeding ground of my failures and I need to leave this negative environment in order to immerse myself in the positive.
That'ss what this page is for. Where my "Life" page describes what's going on in the day to day realm.. this one fdeals with the Big Picture.
The changes I hope to make.
Ok, it's pretty much been decided.
I'm moving to (drummroll please..)
Yep. Less than two weeks after making the decision to get myself out of here, I have a destination, a roommate, and a moving date set.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't overwhelmed... I'm terrified, actually. This is the only home I've ever known. I still have toys and stuffed animals from before I could read. I have twenty one years crammed into one room and I know I won't be able to take it all with me.
I'm afraid of so many things.
What if I can't get a job?
What if I get a job, but get fired?
What if I miss Sacramento to much and go off the deep end?
What if my roommate and I don't get along?
What if it never feels like home to me?
There're a million "What If"s running through my mind but at the same time, I know I need to get out of here.
I've lived in this house since I was a tiny baby.
This is the house that saw me grow up.
The house that saw me read my first book.
The house where I was often hit untill I bruised by my mother.
The house where my father took his last breath.
The house where I was locked inside my bedroom for hours at a time by my brother when I was nine and ten years oold.
The house where I tried to kill myself three times before I was sixteen.
The house where I ran into the shower crying and scrubbed myself untill my skin was red and sore after I was raped.
The house where my sister went cold turkey from her drug habit.
The house where I would hit myself untill I had red marks covering my body because I couldn't deal with all the crap I had inside.
The house where I would spend hours crying myself to sleep because if I left my room I knew I'd have to face my mother and the constant dissappointment I've been to her.
The house where I would break mirrors as a young teenager because I hated looking at my ugly face and disgusting body.