Leaving

One positive thing: I no longer feel like screaming incoherently. I still sort of feel like hiding under the furniture, but that's okay. Now that everything is all packed up in plastic tubs and ready to go, I'm feeling better. Maybe because there are fewer corporeal things holding me here. Maybe because I have one foot out the door.
Agh.
Macrocosmically, moving is so insignificant, but I'm not macrocosmic.
I think I'm still in denial. I can't believe I'm going.
I have always resented the phrase "think about things too much", but in this case it's applicable. Most people just keep living. I always feel the need to stop and take a moment to really examine what is happening here, and what I should do about it. Generally thinking about things is great and more people should do it, but when you can't do anything about it but worry, and indeed, don't want to, there's not much point.
The place looks so empty, now.
I always longed for adventure as a child, never really examining how reluctant I would be to set foot out of the door for who knows how long. Now that it's here, I hesitate. Maybe I would hesitate less if I knew there would be magic involved. My childhood adventures always involved magic. Bah.
I should go to sleep, but I don't want today to end. I have so little time as it is, I have no time for days to end.