Moving out. The thing that is at the top of every high schooler’s to-do list. It was on the top of mine. Now that I’m here though I feel as if I’m missing something. I got to my apartment and set everything up but the whole time it felt wrong. I felt like I was putting my clothes into a hotel room closet and then realizing it was pointless because I would be leaving shortly; although I would not be leaving shortly. I will be here for at least a year. When the year is up it will not be like coming home from vacation. My room will not be how I left it. Knowing my parents it will be another room to store the useless items that we have collected over the years. When the year is up I won’t be coming home exactly. I’ll either sign on for another year or move out to yet another apartment and the vicious cycle will continue until I end up where I am supposed to be.
It is so weird to think about. This room does not feel like my room and this town is nothing like where I am from. I am not used to traffic unless I am trying to get to a concert but here it’s like the traffic never ends. I wonder if it will ever feel like home. They say home is where your heart is but I haven’t been in touch with my heart in quite sometime. That part of me is numb. I hope I come in contact with it soon because I miss the feeling of having hopes and dreams. Now all I have is bitterness and fear. I guess I should start at what I feel is the beginning.
I do not like having responsibility. I’ll explain. If I say I will do something I will do it. I will volunteer to do things and I will be happy to help when needed. What I don’t like is being somewhere new and to be forced to communicate. I can be a people person and I will walk up and talk to people but if someone pushes me to I resent. I guess thats not really responsibility and I’m not sure what it is but whatever you call it I don't like it. With this being said, when my dad told me he found me a job and to meet the people at 4:30, right after school, I was anxious. The company was The Scoop and I was going to be a ever so wonderful Ice-Cream Scooper. I had been to The Scoop countless times in my life. The owners where family friends and so I had known them on a personal level which should mean I should be okay to talk to them about a job right? Wrong.
I get nervous for no reason and the whole way to the parking lot I was stressing and thinking about excuses I could come up with not to go. I forced myself to take the long way and I began to contemplate the thousands of ways I was going to make a fool of myself. I pulled into the parking lot and the smell of cow manure that I have since become numb to lingered in the air. I opened the familiar door and walked to the Ice-Cream counter to meet who I would soon find out to be satan herself, Angie. “Hey! I’m here to meet Kim about a job. Where could I find her?” I stuttered out and immediately regretted my decision to speak. “Honey you’ll just have to wait I don't know where she is.” Thanks for nothing, Satan. I began to stand at the edge of the store near the cash register in hopes that the wait wouldn't be long.
After standing awkwardly in the corner for about five minutes I finally spoke again. “Do you have her number? I can call her to see if-” “Honey If she said she was going to meet you, I’m sure she’ll be here anytime.” That shut me up. Finally after another eternity of five minutes Kim appeared from the back.