Narrative About Moving Away

I shoved the last of my clothing into a bag, anything I couldn’t fit into my luggage will have to be left behind. I’ve never realized how much stuff I had until I forced into a box; unfortunately, this didn’t stop from forcing as much as possible into bags, boxes, or luggage. Overall I packed almost my entire room. There’d be no room in my car for the mattress so it looks like the back seat will be my bed for the foreseeable future. No one’s home, or would be home for the rest of the night. My departure is a long thing coming and has been carefully planned to ease my escape. I waited until the night of Homecoming. I knew if any of my friends would try to stop me, they’d be too distracted to keep me here. As fate would have it, it’s also the night my parents and siblings are all busy doing their own thing, leaving me all alone on my last night here. this was not in the least a spontaneous act, it just wasn’t. In fact, I said goodbye to my friends a few weeks back so no one would try to stop me when I finally found the time to do it. It’s been exciting, waiting and preparing for this night the last few weeks, but everything is scarier up close. Nervous, how can I be nervous about leaving? As if leaving wasn’t
I’m not suicidal anymore but I feel with every fiber of my being I cannot stay here. Ever since I started middle school, every odd year I would transfer schools and was quite literally to make a new group of friends over and over and over again. It was something I could set my watch to, and the constant movement had affected me - I had to keep moving. Staying in one place makes me irritable and bored, I feel too safe. So after much consideration I packed my bags and I’m getting the hell out of Dodge. Overlooking my now nearly barren room I relive an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Everyone I love or even know would be left behind, but I can’t think of them, I am doing this for