Leaving sucks. Goodbyes blow. Boxes. Tape. Fitting your lives into a 6x12 box. All in the name of transition. Change. M-O-V-I-N-G. As tears fight to escape my face, my heart beats into an ache, a gnawing, an uncomfortable shift. What is this? Oh yes, this is transition.
Homes of my friends zoom by my window pane. And I am no longer the same. Fuck, the pain. As soon as I go, I know. Red nosed and rosey cheeked, the past fades away with all remaining tears. And suddenly the future is the present. Damn transition.
Rain pounds like shattering glass, mocking my tears, revealing my weaknesses, and my true nature. Raw. Open. Vulnerable. Unsure.
Suddenly, clouds part, light finds its way through, as it always does. And I am new, as I always am. Thank God for transition.
Uncertainty rings like the tone of a bell I've been waiting to hear my whole life. It beckons me to step up, shed the old skin, emerge into something new. Something I've yet to discover, yet I feel it brewing. I'm ready.
Amidst the sadness, I've laughed far harder than I've cried. I've hugged more times than I can count, each squeeze of support adding to my armor, attune to the reality of transition like never before.
Having learned, laughed, loved, fucked up, I am equipped Now. I know how. Sure it gets harder, but I get better. Each transition propels me further, deeply entrenched on my weird little path. I am ready.
Hell yes, transition.
