Reminding me we used to be three and not two and that's how the world will end.

The cat's out of the bag. I thought I could keep it a secret for longer, plan things in the background and hide my intentions from prying eyes, but it came out almost as soon as it came into my head. I feel a mixture of things, mostly fear along with excitement, relief, nervousness, and inklings of sorrow. Tomorrow I will put ads in the buy and sell for my car, x-box, playstation, television, and my first guitar. I will print resumes in the library in silence, watching page after page regurgitate into job prospects and new opportunities. I will party like it's 1999, only with more alcohol and less 3rd grade humour. I feel like I did when I started planning my trip to Europe, the familiar heavy feeling in my gut is churning around with dreams of a new city and apprehensions of leaving this all behind.
I'm moving to Victoria. Hopefully before Christmas. I'm taking my acoustic, my skate, my cd's and some clothes and I'm going to couch hop until I get a job and find a place to live. I finalized my plans last night while riding my skateboard to Woodgrove mall in the cold, revelling in the streets that grew deserted as the hours crept past midnight. I rode to your house, but all the lights were off, so I continued on running through lists of pros and cons, pushing my feet hard into the pavement and feeling the sting of wind in my eyes, walking up steep hills until my shoes pinched and I had to turn back. It was 2:30 in the morning when I fell into bed, still unable to rest, thoughts falling like shooting stars between my eyes.

I will miss you and the little time we had. I don't know if we could have been anything or if we were just having fun, but the thought of starting to like you is scary enough to push me away. I think I hardened myself so much the last time that I found it almost impossible to warm up to you, even when I spent the night with my hands curled around your arm, breathing in the air you exhaled, wanting to pretend that it was something more than just sleeping it off. Right place wrong time? I hope that's the only reason.

I wonder what will come of my last weeks here. I feel like I've planted some seeds, started a few small riots, and let one or two choice people see parts of me that usually lay dormant. Maybe I'll hear some secrets. Maybe I'll tell some, brush my lips past open ears and whisper the truth while the highway sleeps under our feet. Or maybe I'll just leave like I usually do, before your eyelids stretch so far open I have nothing left to hide.