“You know I’m from here, right?”
“Do you know what the word ‘from’ means? It means you don’t have to be there anymore.”
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Sitting in the bath after using the last of the bubble bath. Well, this is the last bubble bath, I guess.
I can be so dramatic.
I look over at my dirty toilet. My trash can is smeared with the last remnants of hair dye. Six little bottles of essential oils sit on a shelf above. I bought those because bloggers told me to. They all ended up as failed Pinterest projects and now their main objective is to just look pretty. Thick and thin, this is my space.
I go focus back to my bath. I push all the bubbles up around me like a soft, fluffy, comforting blanket. From. I keep contemplating the term. From. Little beads of sweat drip down my forehead and softly hit my bubble blanket. I am from Ohio. I am soon to be from Tennessee.
My brow furrows and I feel like I have a good cry in me, but no tears come out. It’s maddening to me that I’m leaving. I tell myself I want to leave. I want to leave. I spent years forcing it but I can’t keep it up. I want to leave. I just want a home. I want my space with another dirty toilet and expensive bottles of oils that I don’t use. But I know I can’t be in Nashville anymore.
In the end, I feel like I’m giving up and I don’t have a lot of trying left in me. My head spins with all the places I can go, but I know I don’t belong there either. Maybe it’s there. It just seems so far from here.