As we sat in this new 6 weeks session, my mind wondered aimlessly trying to not let the sounds come in. Think happy thoughts. I don’t have happy thoughts. Well, its not that I don’t have happy thoughts, I am a very happy person, I just don’t have a good long term memory. They’re trapped somewhere in there, but they won’t come out. So I chose the one memory, that looking back embodies all the feelings we were supposed to think of. When I left for Arizona.
Happiness hit me because here I was venturing out my own. Sort of. I knew people in Phoenix, and had a place to stay, heck I even had a job. Which was found purely by luck on my weeklong job hunt in February. I was finally a grown-up. I guess. My mother was sad to see me go so far away, but she was happy, there was no way I would content to just go home and live a non-descript existence. My father on the other hand was none too pleased that I was leaving. I left home when I was 17 finish high school somewhere else and start college early, why should this bother him? Finally convinced that I was leaving with or without him, he chose to drive with me. The best part of the trip was just packing up my belongings, into my rust infested ford tempo and leaving the snow behind.
Fear set in when I brought my father to the airport and watched as he walked past the ticket taker. I was alone. Fuck. I’m alone. Sure I had my friend that I was staying with for the time being, and another acquaintance, but its not the same. No family to turn to when I was sick. No best friend who’s there no matter what. No boyfriend to go out to dinner with or explore my new home with. I’ve always had someone, what the hell was I going to do now. I was alone. To feel utterly alone in a crowded airport, was terrifying.