Moving SUUUUUUCKS...

Moving sucks. Really really sucks. I had forgotten how much it sucked, because I haven't had to move in about 3 years. Now that I remember how badly it sucks, I have decided to stay where I am forever, or set all my stuff on fire when I have to leave. The whole "lighting things on fire" solution, might seem bit "drastic," but it would also be an ultimate resolution. Then again, I'm a mild commitment-phobe, and setting things on fire, is a decision you need to be committed to.

Anywayzzz...

I moved out of my apartment this past weekend, and while it did suck (see above), it was also quite liberating. I'm going to miss my neighborhood, and the people around there. I'm going to miss my roommates, and our late night chats/1am bar runs, aka: "Hey it's a random Tuesday night, lets grab a quick beer before it's last call!"

It feels so surreal that it's all over. This place has been my home through a smorgasbord of amazing nights, crazy bullshit, insane roommates, new best friends, relationships ending, new love sprouting, a hundred tears, and a million laughs.  I realize that it's not like I can't visit my friends, or go to the same cafés I used to frequent, but things have officially changed. No matter how much I want to feel otherwise, everything is different now. It might seem silly to have such an epic attachment to a building that's 80 years-old, and hasn't been renovated since the Reagan administration (mmm... asbestos), but it was my home, and it meant something to me.

It's so strange when you catch yourself growing up. I still feel like a kid in my head. A little girl, dreaming of what she wants to be when she grows up.

*News Flash Bridgette* - This is "grown-up," and there are no second chances, no do-overs, and no way to "take back" the years that have slipped away. It's full-steam ahead; now or never little girl.

I feel so small, so often, that when I actually witness myself doing grown-up things, or "taking responsibility," I'm always completely enthralled by my new found competence. But after that moment passes, I get a little uneasy, and start to feel this desperate ache in my belly for a "grown-up" to check and make sure I did everything right.

I don't know about you guys, but I feel like I was ill-prepared to enter 'adult-hood.' Sure, I knew it was coming, but I most definitely did NOT receive the handbook on "how not to fail at life." I can't decide if the realization that you might not being "doing life" correctly, and then accepting that fact, is, ultimately what defines the actuality of truly being, "an adult?'

I'm pretty sure it's a crap-shoot either way. 

I have decided that life, is simply a game of Russian roulette. Some of us are playing with revolvers, and some of us are playing with machine guns. I, on the other hand, am still having trouble turning the safety off.

I've almost got it though...  

A few more steps, and the gun will be cocked. 

Barrel to my temple. 

Ready. Aim. Fire.

love you mean it.