In three weeks I'm moving out. In three weeks, I become divorced from the only world I've known for nearly 18 years, and start living on my own.

Sure, it's only dorms, but I'm still filled with something that isn't quite fear, but not really anything else. I have two massive Rubbermaid containers in my room, into which I'm supposed to pack. I stood there, staring at them, trying to figure out where to begin. In the end, I did some laundry, and left it. It seems to be too much for me to start and sort through my life. Trash, storage, Victoria. Trash, storage, Victoria. Trash, storage, Victoria...

I can't even joke about it. My dad told me to take the containers down into my room. "You guys can't wait to get rid of me," I joked. I was answered with an angry, "You're moving out in three weeks! You can't leave this until the last minute! Are you going to freeload off of us for the rest of your life?" He's been saying that last one a lot lately. I think it's a stupid question since I am moving out, and I have a temporary job which I'll hold until I move. I don't think an unwillingness to pack has anything to do with freeloading.

Okay, maybe I am scared. But I don't think it's without reason.

Sundragyn.