Moving On

Body

by Deja Beamon

College uproots you. When you’re in high school, you crave for it. The independence, freedom. Your parents haven’t gotten you in years. You know you can take care of yourself, if only someone would let you. And then you get here.

And at the end of each semester, you are forced to pack up. And leave. And figure out your summer plans, 'cause you can’t not do anything. And then summer is over and you leave, and then you are here. After the first year, you dread leaving. The hasty task of packing. Throwing out half of your belongings because you refuse to buy another fucking box.

And then you’re in senior year. And you don’t know what’s next. Except that eventually you’ll have to pack up. And you look around and see how much has changed. The people you clung to, who became your family, are gone. The person you gave your heart to might not be enough.

And you move on. You were never the same since that day you were dropped off by your loved ones. You know they are home but you aren’t. Your home is here or it was here. What is here?

The scariest part of it all is knowing that as much as you have others, you only have yourself. The missed opportunities are all because of you. The bad friendships, the ones that didn’t last, the heartbreaks, the people you pushed away for fear of them, are all your fault. And soon, they will all be here. This here that you packed up and left.

And it’s scary.

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