The bravest thing I’ve ever done was step out of my comfort zone.
How cliche is that? I know, its gag worthy. I’m actually mad I typed it out and used it in an article.
But reality prevails.
As I creep closer to my move-in date and revel in the truth that my life is about to change, the more anxious and emotional I get.
As much as I hate this area, its home. NEPA is the center of every experience I’ve ever had, from tragedies to triumphs. This is where my dad rests in peace, where friends were made and buried, where memories are burned in floorboards of outdated homes and in cars with too many miles. This is where I experienced my first heartbreak and last conversations. NEPA is where I graduated, became self-sufficient, grew strong. This is the root of who I am and how far I’ve come.
I remember being sixteen and angsty; promising myself that I would move far the hell away from here, start a new life with new people and a fresh slate. I never thought it would happen. In fact, seventeen-year-old me would be shocked to learn that I haven’t killed myself, a feat that is exceptional on its own. I never thought I would make it this far, and yet I am here.
I waited so long to say that I’m officially getting out of here, and now I am petrified. I’m sad. I’m doubtful. I have a lot to offer the world; that I am sure of. But the lingering doubt that encapsulates me is the worst of it all. Did I make the right choice? But what if?
I don’t know if I made the right decision. I don’t know if what I’m doing is out of my reach or too far-fetched. I don’t know if I have what it takes to be a writer, or be anything at all, really.
All I know is that my lease is signed, and that bitch was expensive; so there is no turning back.
The future is mine.