Tomorrow is my last full day, here, in the city that has become my all-of-a-sudden home.

I like it here, very much, and I'm sad to leave. I'll miss the people, I'll miss the park right across the street. I'll miss having everything within walking distance, and what I don't have within walking distance I can just hope on the subway and ride to, one, three, five, 10 stops away.

I'll miss the weather up here. Oh yes, I will. I like the snow, now. I like the distinct seasons in the northeast, whereas in Texas we get a mismatch of hot, hotter, hottest, and only slightly cooler.

I still don't know about next year. My friends at school tell me that if I don't come back, I should move back up here permanently, and I could, but I could never afford a place here, in the heart of the city. I'd have to move to the suburbs, a lengthy commute away, and I'd be alone out there, so why would I?

I've been visited multiple times in the past few days by the anxiety monster. I'd forgotten that bastard. I'd forgotten how he can just jump out from behind a corner, grab me, envelope me completely, in mere seconds. I'd forgotten the sickening nausea that accompanies him. And the panic attacks. More than once the past few days I've huddled in the corner of the laundry room, the only place I can be alone, and cried.

Even now my stomach is tightening as I write this. After I press post I'll try to distract myself with The Time Traveler's Wife or an episode of Scrubs. I want to be home, to get this leaving part over with, but I also want just a bit more time here. Am I saying goodbye, goodbye? Or just a temporary, see you next fall? I wish I solidly knew.

All my wall hangings have been taken down. It's so white behind my bed and desk that it creeps me out. All my beloved books are packed away, and a giant brown box sits where they used to. Half my clothes are packed. Tomorrow I'll pack the rest, and my bedding, and all my little knick-knacks. But it's stark and different in here already. My roommates both leave tomorrow, so I'll be alone for my last night here.

See y'all on the other side.


Erin O. said...

This was the worst part of college-packing and unpacking. I hope it goes well.

Monica H said...

You can do this. As of now, you're saying goodbye for now. You don't have to make a decision right this very moment. Hope the anxiety eases up, it's a bitch and a half.

Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry that it's hard, sweetie. I know that it must be difficult just knowing that you're leaving for the summer, much less possibly for good. Keep reading your book for distraction and watching Scrubs and try to stay away from corners of the laundry room. And get home and we'll find a way to work things out. There's a loving family, puppy, bird, fish, D, help for anxiety if you need it, Damien, and a bathtub waiting for you.

Love, mom

P.S. Is there another of your friends who could stay with you your last night or you with them?

lifeofadancer312 said...


so. big sister. let's discuss this post.

1) first of all, you don't have to miss the walking thing. there's a puppy here in dire need of having a nightly walk. (and snuggle)

2) hot, hotter, hottest=two sisters working on their tans. which they really need.

3) don't worry about next year yet. enjoy your last day and enjoy your summer. things will work themselves out :)

4) tell that anxiety monster to get his panties out of a wad and help you make some lemonade with the lemons life has just thrown at you. you have an opportunity to decide! experience new things! stick with the norm! follow your heart!

5) laundry room= NOOO. sitting with your buds playing mario kart and eating cherry garcia ice cream= YESSSS.

6) no need for whole scrubs episodes when you have an amazing sister. watch these:








7) please hang chuck/doris up for the night. they will keep you company.

8) the grass is always greener on the other side :)

see you soon and love you no matter what choice you make :)
-your lil sistah

Anonymous said...

This is called "The One-inch Journey", by Wendall Berry:

Always in the big woods when you leave familiar ground and step off alone into a new place there will be, along with the feelings of curiosity and excitement, a little nagging of dread. It is the ancient fear of the unknown, and it is your first bond with the wilderness you are going into. What you are doing is exploring. You are undertaking the first experience, not of the place, but of yourself in that place. It is an experience of your essential loneliness; for nobody can discover the world for anybody else. It is only after you have discovered it for yourself that it becomes a common ground and a common bond, and you cease to be alone.

* * *

I wish I had read this at your age.

Whether you're leaving there for good, or for just a bit, you're on your journey. And journeys are happy and sad and exciting and scary and costly and rewarding. But mostly, lived well, they can be rich.

You've always journeyed richly. I'm confident you'll keep doing so.

love, pops

Stephany said...

Aw, Nanny, this post makes me so sad. :( I spent a year living in a dorm during my freshman year of college and I absolutely hated it. I had the roommate-from-hell which is most likely the reason why. So I had the exact opposite experience in my last few days - I was so excited to leave my version of hell and move back home.

So I can't exactly empathize with you. I did do the whole curled-up-and-crying bit quite a lot during my first month there. I called my mom on my first night there, crying, telling her I thought I made a big mistake.

So I sort of understand where you're coming from. I hope everything works out!