about fifteen minutes ago, my mom asked me what i was doing. it wasn't a "what are you doing tonight" or "what are you doing right now because i just got home from work", it was a "what are you doing with your life? she rarely asks this, so i waited until she came to my doorway so i knew she was actually listening. i was moving my room around a bit, trying to make the stuff i have fit better, somehow figure out a way to feel not so cramped and messy, trying something new. when she got home i was sipping on some home made iced tea and thinking about what i could do. i knew that i had to move the stuff back the way it had been, because it looked awkward the new way. my gigantic canvas with an orange sun printed upon it just does not fit in my tiny bedroom. it's been peeking out behind my bed for years. i was planning on moving all of my crafty stuff downstairs to where the rest of our crafty stuff is, but my mom suggested i just move down there. she asked if i was going away for school, and my silent smile told her that i don't know. i don't have a plan. i'm mildly terrified, increasingly so when i think about it, which has been more often in the last week or so. instead of moving just my crafty shit downstairs to the cave my sisters each called a living space, she suggested i move ALL my shit down there, since i might be going away at some point. something clicked then.
this isn't just about moving my shit around...these are life decisions. this is me being back from europe, me starting to decide what would make me blissfully happy, me figuring out what i should do. i think moving downstairs definitely equals the last step before moving out. i think everyone already knew this. downstairs is cut off, it's seclusion, its distance from them. the cave is a push towards the exit. if i do go away for school, my stuff will be stored, and things will be different when/if i get back here. there's no sense in living with parents after living like that. yep, i'm pretty terrified.