Silently, in my head I cried bye to my house louder than any spoken words can. I didn’t say much, words couldn’t express the cacophony of angry thoughts bubbling through the water of sorrow in my mind, but I showed my emotions in every action and sound I made. Some part of me resisted, but I still helped my parents because resistance was futile in packing and unpacking.

The long drive down didn’t help pacify my mind, only three thoughts clearly ran through my mind. One was for the sorrows of goodbye to the place of memories and familiarity. The second one was for the sorrows of goodbye to friends. The last thought was the anger of leaving and readjustment. Yeah, I was a fully automatic deppresobot 9000.

It didn’t help that people were trying to comfort me with such knowledge as “goodbye doesn’t have to be a painful word” or “You can see each other when we visit.” False for the first part and true once every six months for the second part.

All of these suffocating thoughts formed into two massive tyrants, in the end drowning me in the water of sorrows. Why is goodbye the most painful word? Why do I have to move?

It took me a while and lots of unloading packages, but I guess while unloading physical packages, I was slowly unloading mental ones too. Like always, after dipping my feet slowly into the water I found my place and happiness. The moral of this story is try not to get down on bad thoughts.