Closing This Chapter

As the time for me to leave inches closer and closer, I can't help feeling like I have a few things left to wrap up. Not relationships, necessarily, but unresolved things with myself. There was a spot I used to go to often this last year, a modest, small dirt pullout tucked away from a backroad. It's about thirty minutes from my house, but it has always felt like a bit of a safe haven to me. It's beautiful, really. And I have always loved that it is just mine, a secret I keep for myself. The road has a hill on either side, and it feels like you are in your own little pocket of space, protected from the outside world. I used to drive there at night when it felt like I couldn't handle things anymore. I'd lie on the hood of my car, and look up at the stars, and think about how small I felt. How large the world around me truly was, and the minuscule part I played in it. I would ponder questions that, at the time, I felt I would never have the answer to. There were times that I would make any excuse to go there- I'd lie about staying late at a friend's house or a sporting event gone into overtime. It was truly the place I could always trust. Though I hadn't been there in a while, I could still tell you exactly what it looked like. Sloping hills that bleed into a grassless valley, and a fence forlorn enough it seemed to almost nod to itself that it could keep nothing out. Though I went there many times when I was upset, I remember one night that I just lost it. My parents were fighting, I was stressed about school and the abundance of choices, and I snapped. I will acknowledge that one of my worst qualities is going numb when I am overwhelmed. It seems like I feel absolutely nothing, and it scares me. I felt so numb that night that I drove in silence, digging my fingernails into my arm until I bled, trying to feel anything. I had convinced myself that I could drive to a town a few hours away, and stay for a few nights, or months, or whatever it took. Looking back now, it was awful, and selfish, and completely irrational. But it made sense then, and I started driving, trying to feel anything and forget about everything. I drove for about forty-five minutes, until I realized it was impossible. That this idea was stupid and juvenile, and my parents would be so angry. I turned my car around and decided that I needed to think, and I needed to be alone for a while. The only place I could think of that was both close and far enough away was my little hideout, the place I could always rely on. I remember lying on the hood of my car that night, and looking up at the stars, and questioning everything. Whether what I was doing and feeling were right, if I was alright. I laid there in the quiet, black night and stared into the sky until I started feeling less numb. I've found that sometimes, in some odd way, thinking about the insignificance of it all pulls me back to reality. I will always remember that night, and how in some way, that place saved me. Though I returned a few times after, I've still had this feeling that I had to go back before I left. And I did. I went there tonight, and laid on the hood of my car, and thought about all of those times that I thought I would never make it through. In a way, it was like being there with my past self- someone who was lost and sad and uncertain of the future. And in a sense it felt good- knowing that I could answer the questions I once thought had impossible answers. I guess the point of this is that visiting that place again cemented things for me. I looked at the stars, and thought about how proud I would have been of myself if I could see me now. It helped me realize that this chapter is closing, and it is okay. I am okay. Most importantly, this will all be okay.