This blog was created at the beginning of an end. In 3 days I leave Miami, a place I have been for over a year now, and fly to MN. It's not as if I am entering new territory though. I grew up there...in the cold and tedious North. There are many reasons for why I left, but only one for which I return.
Familiarity.
I am sick, dying really, and I have decided that I want the comfort of knowing what is around me and the knowledge that someone will know who I am once I am gone. Here in Miami I have been homeless, lived in hostels, and I currently live in a run down roach motel in one of the most beautiful places in the country. I don't exist to anyone but myself.
I don't have a plan for when I get where I am going, but I made the decision to go back, with or without a place to live. So far...there is no place to live.
I am ok with this. I am scared, of course, but I am also excited. I have always liked living on the edge. Facing the unknown excites me and drives me to get out of my shell. I am normally a pretty hardcore hermit. I leave my room maybe twice a month. For a few hours at most. I don't really like the outside world. I dislike most people. I dislike their games, their false smiles, and empty heads. Their voices are too loud, their conversations too inane. It makes my head hurt and my tummy queasy.
I have a few possible plans for when I arrive. They could all work, but only if I don't end up in jail.
I have a warrant there. I have had one there for over 2 years now. I was never served, so they can't get me for running from it. I actually found it while Googling myself. Vanity pays off in the end. ^_^
That isn't why I left in the first place though. I left because I was terrified of losing myself. I had just broken up with my long term boyfriend, gotten sick, been told I was going to die, had my ex leave me to go back to Alaska, etc. I was a mess. I didn't know what else to do. I spent my nights crying and my days emotionless. I was worried that I would give in to the temptation to kill myself and just get it over with.*
So instead I packed a couple bags, got on a bus, and made the 2.5 day trip down to South Beach. Two weeks after that I began my 8 month reign of being homeless. In Miami. That was fun.
I learned quite a bit. I definitely changed. I did try to off myself though. Once I tried swimming with jellyfish, but they wouldn't sting me. Another time I tried getting eaten by gators, but I guess they weren't hungry.
I have survived so much trauma in my life. I have fought to stay alive. Then when I want to end it all...I can't. I am supposed to die from DISEASE? How dull. I don't think it's very fair of fate to do this to me, but whatever. I suppose there is a plan here somewhere.
Anyway...I leave on the 3rd. I've never been in an airport by myself before, and I'm a little nervous. MIA is huge. It's a good thing I am going to arrive at around 3am or so. I will have 12 hours to figure out where to be and grab some good food to eat.
I have approximately 4 open doors right now. I just have to decide which one I am going to open.
*I realize I sound rather emo here, but in reality I am pretty apathetic about most things.
