on the verge of moving back to chicago

there is a time that presents itself on the precipice of a movement.
the bigger the movement, the bigger the anticipatory apathy towards most things becomes. I shut down before I move, to save strength or some other natural adaptation my body has to protect me. either you over exert yourself or you never know where to begin. The decision is slowly becoming not whether to move or not to move, but how am I going to be affected by this damned process.

This is me saying that I am afraid. I am afraid of so many things, just in the coming months so many things, that it is a wonder that I have even packed. But then why does this fear exist? If I think of its root is is only because I dread the transition and the loneliness that comes with resettling. But I am resettling, whether I am fearful of it or not. There is a need that is deeper to discover in my own self what I want to do and where I want to be. I have made that decision, to leave and take a further step towards my independence (and away from general familiarity), long ago and when I couldn't fathom regret. Now I can feel it, regret palpitates on the end of each finger and makes the back of my eyeballs want to spin; and be it false senses of remorse, but I nurse these feeling like they were my children, almost like I want them to grow.

I am recentering myself and making my self able to learn more. Really nothing could be better for me. I need this new perspective, and so perhaps that is why I am afraid. I am afraid of a few uncomfortable moments alone and the possibility of awkward reintroductions into peoples lives. I am afraid of things going too well, so well as to warrant an imminent catastrophe, or not going well at all, which is almost worse than not enjoying the good times I have been given. I have no more time for regret, it has been squeezed from me as the vise of time closes to the unfailing date. I am going to wake up tomorrow and I am going to move. And damn it, it will be beautiful.