I’ve been out of my parents house and hundreds of miles away for nine and a half years – This January will be 10 years. I still remember the day. I don’t remember leaving or the feelings of that day. I don’t know if I was scared or excited. I was starting something new and brushed off all the things I either thought I didn’t want or didn’t deserve and things that I knew would anchor me to that place if I’d let them. There are some of those things that pushed to the side for only a little while and some that seem lost forever, which is probably for the best.

Today (and lately) I feel like a little kite. Spinning and flipping with no sense of direction and no real path to follow, but I’m tied to a string that’s tied to a rock on the ground.

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