Moving Out, Moving On

I've felt very stressed out lately.

No, I guess that's not the right word for it. I've felt positively overwhelmed. Not quite lucid. On edge. Unsure. Unbalanced. Unstable. I have less than one month until I move into my dorm - twenty-four days, I think - and I don't really know what to do, so my brain has made up for this lack of formulated reaction by pretty much throwing me through each emotion it can think of. It's taken a toll.

The combination of the overwhelming emotions of Boston with the overwhelming stress of beginning college has turned me into a mess. That's not to say that I'm entirely unhappy, because there are moments of time when I'm very very excited and enthused and eager to see what waits for me around the corner. I'm very appreciative of all the great things I've been offered this summer, and I have so, so much to be thankful for. But at the same time, I have quite a bit to be afraid of.

I guess one of the biggest problems I'm facing is this bitter feeling of complete unreadiness. I feel totally and utterly unprepared to live on my own. To the point that I'm terrified. And I know. I know that that's what college is for. I understand that part of the point of going to college is to learn the things that make living on your own survivable. But my problem is that I'm not even convinced I can pseudo-live-on-my-own. I'm irresponsible and lazy; I'm undependable and needy; I'm immature and moody. But I'm also passionate and stubborn and belligerent and opinionated, and that means that there isn't really any other option but for me to go.

There is no way in hell I would allow myself not to go to college. I would be miserable and very, very disappointed. But right now, I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to make going to college work either.

I'll figure out something. I always do.