After 10 months and countless nights of homesickness, I’m free.
Living with two other women was just too much. I began to feel like the den mother, cleaning up after them, doing their laundry, etc.
I’d outgrown the dynamic by the first month and that damned place itself last autumn. I resented staying in Florida during the autumn.
Forgive me for not being so eloquent, I couldn’t sleep so well because I was so excited to leave. I certainly left in a certain way, like a rainstorm that suddenly turns to frost.
It feels like shedding layers of myself I was itching to get rid of. I felt constricted there, as if they wanted me to study the layers instead of doing what I do best, just leaving them behind.
No more moving goal posts. No more surprise meetings where I get a new asshole ripped. No more quotas, no more morning meetings, no more M lurking and laying on the floor and being an entitled brat just because she can; no more scheduling my life around K, no more waking up to go downstairs and get my meds, no more same old routine of walking down the Dixie Highway to the vape shop, to the Dunkin’, to the Walmart Super-Center.
It is funny I’m taking the train. All my favorite movies involve a train scene. And now the sky’s turned a sepia color, as if a cinematographer put a filter over things to romanticize my escape. My escape.
I’ve waited so long for this.
Nightingale 
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