Running on E

So here's a little-known fact about me. Most people would probably say that they view me as confrontational because I am outspoken, loud, and opinionated. The truth is that I only act that way when the outcome is truly unimportant. For example- if we were to debate politics- we can argue both sides until we're blue in the face- but it doesn't change the country. The truth about me is that I'm actually very non confrontational when it comes to real-life issues-I'd much rather run far far away.

Part of me is guiltily willing to admit that that is part of why I am moving to New York. I need a change of scenery, I need to start fresh. But what I really mean to say is "I need to be ABH (anywhere but here)." New York just happens to be where my chosen school is, a city that I love, and close enough to home that I can come running back if I please.

See it's simple- when things aren't going my way, when things have gone so far off course from where they should be, it's so much easier to escape and start over than it is to tirelessly work as fixing a problem. I mean really, who works at solving things now anyway? The only thing that matters is the outcome. What we experience during our trials and tribulations is no where near as important as the person that these things transform us into. We will forget the hurdles we jumped, but we will always remember the medals we won (or didn't win).

I'm moving to New York out of fear. Out of fear of what will happen to me if I stay here. Out of fear of not having followed my dreams, of turning into my mother. Of never meeting the right person, or worse, staying with the right person for all the wrong reasons. I'm moving to New York to escape the somber reality of my life: I am an out-of-status immigrant, who is working at a dead-end job, and has exhausted all of her opportunities for growth in the town where she grew up. I am moving of New York because I'm sick of living my life in neutral, and accepting mediocrity as a means of payment for the price that is my livelihood.

It's so desperate that it's pathetic. It's so desperate that no one dares to try to stop me for fear of what I might do if I'm trapped here any longer.

It's going to hurt to leave. But I'll hurt even more if I stay. Everything I know about this place is no longer. There is no doting mother, no loving father, there are no more friends that I grew up with. There is my sister, and my aging jack Russell. There are faces of boys that whose gazes I'd rather not meet, and stares from girls I used to be friends with. There is nothing left here.

I'm running on empty.