I’m moving to Toronto in 47 days.

 A couple of nights ago, I woke up at four in the morning. While trying to drift off back to sleep, I realized what moving across the country means. I wont get to see my mom every morning. I wont get to talk and joke around with her. I wont get to see my awesome dog every day. I’ll never get to see my sisters or my dad. I’ll be completely disconnected from my immediate family.

 I’m scared to death. But not so scared that I don’t want to go. Not like, when you’re about to get on a rollar coaster and there’s a little murmur fleeting through your brain, telling you to get off.

 There is no murmur, because there is no choice. I HAVE to go. I can’t live at home anymore. I can’t live in Saskatoon. I have to start taking control of my life and acting like a grownup. For god’s sake, I’m twenty-one and I still feel like a teenager. All I want to do is feel at least somewhat like an adult.

 But Jesus. It’s all really scary. I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to be friendless and all alone on weekends. I want sweet friends who hang out at cool live music bars that have atmospheres, music, and crowds that rival Lydia’s (on a Saturday night).

 I want to move right now and get all of this anxiety bullshit over and done with. I need to get it off my mind.