So I moved out of my mom’s place on Saturday. The home I’d been living in, minus some time away at college, for 28 years. I was lucky enough to be able to take my cat with me, but as I get closer and closer to getting all my shit unpacked and put away, the realization that I’m well outside my comfort zone has sunk in. 

And the stupid cat scratching thing did it. My baby sniffed it and was so thrilled to see it again that it just hit me that she’s the only living thing that I took with me when I moved. This is my first foray into the realm of independence, and you know the only thing that popped into my mind when the tears stopped?

“Fuck”