Member-only story
When I Get Mad, I Say I’m Going to Move
I’m not sure what else to do
Moving is expensive…and I would know. I’ve moved five times in the past four years. Try as I may, I seem to be physically incapable of living anywhere for the entire duration of my lease. I am always running. I can’t stop.
I just want to feel safe.
I move because I am scared. I move because I feel trapped. I move because a part of me believes that in doing so, I can outrun the part of myself that I never, ever want to see again. In my cross country and track days, I was fast — but, I must admit, not that fast.
Alas, moving has caught up with me. For financial reasons, I must stay put for the time being. For the first time since I moved to the city of Rochester, I might actually wait to move until my lease is up…but that doesn’t mean that I won’t want to move before then.
This winter, seasonal depression hit me hard. There was something about the staying power of the darkness that seeped into the lining of my heart and then dripped into my spirit. I didn’t even know where I wanted to go: I just knew that I wanted to leave.
People say that I run from my problems, and maybe that’s true: but could they stay still in my shoes? I don’t think so.
