Start Over

I question why I am still here. I know exactly why though. I am scared. I am scared to do things officially on my own. I can get up, pack my bags, and live somewhere far away. I know I can do that but I dont know what will happen. Will I make it, Is it the right decision, or am I just being a little wimp? There are so many questions and doubts. I went to Maryland and was so fucking happy. 

I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia constant pain in my body. When I was there…not one minute of pain. 

The stress is so prominent here at my house and every second in that car drive to my home I felt it. I felt the tension on my shoulders, the fear of the consequences, and even the pain of my body and limbs. Not one ounce of anxiety or insomnia. Everything was….perfect.

Perfect doesn’t exist in my eyes. It is always something that ruins that perfect image in my mind. 

Maryland I was happy, and okay. Just fucking okay. It was a fantasy and a dream and it was real and reality reared its head back in and slapped me down with a ruthless paw with claws to the face. 

I am home again. Though home isn’t here…it never was. Home…is out there.

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