Oh man, it was so depressing unsubscribing from Houston dance mailing lists. So many things I could just say, "Psych! I'm not really leaving! I had you fooled!" But unsubscribing had the same impact as putting in my two weeks notice at work. Working my last day of work just felt like I was going into a day off that was going to last a while. But putting in writing on her desk two weeks ago, that was heavy. It's like you spend your life running along this track, and you're preparing to leap to another one, and so you put in this burst of speed, lifting slightly, then lowering and using that penultimate step to change your momentum's vector from forward to upward. I am not yet on my penultimate step, but I can definately feel the difference between sprinting for a finish line and sprinting for a jump. I don't feel like I'm leaving my friends behind, because even though I've seen many of them for the last time, it was as though we parted with an elipsis, not a period. I'm not saying, "That's it, close my tab. Close my account. Don't look for me to walk through the door." I'm just saying, "See you later. I'm going dancing somewhere else, and you're welcome to join me." Knowing that I'm going alone, as I've always gone alone. Knowing that I'm going to meet the person that will always want to come along, that will invite me to all of her events as well, and who I'll never get tired of seeing, never get bored talking to, never wish I could just have a little space from. And yes, I hated ending all those clauses in prepositions, but "proper" grammar sounds so unnatural sometimes, especially when the other half of the sound is what I want. [laughs] It's time. It's time for me to get boxes, because I look around at all the things I have, and all I want to do is pack the things I'm taking, and leave behind all the things I'm not. Goodbye books I won't read again. Goodbye posters I'll never want on any wall but this one. Goodbye furniture that has served me well but I won't regret replacing. Goodbye bed that has looked after me so well. Goodbye shades that kept me safe from unwanted sunlight. Goodbye walls to which I've grown so accustomed. Goodbye wood floors that will always feel right when beneath me, to which I will become as a stranger, as a visitor. Goodbye toys that I never threw away and tools that I might have used once and won't use again. Goodbye Houston, with your long familiar infuriating roads, your plethora of interesting people, your wealth of opportunity and interconnection, your smog and light pollution and flat spaces that hide trees behind buildings and buildings behind trees. Goodbye.