I try to occupy myself from the tension in my chest, trying to figure out which is a worst taste on my tongue, the metallic tang from the cut lip clenched between my teeth, or the bittersweetness of this moment.

I dreamed this day up over and over in my head, romanticizing the moment I could finally escape this house, and now that its here I have to force myself to let in bigger breaths to stop the hyperventilating I know is creeping up.

I try to remind myself of all the horrors I faced here, all the reasons I listed over the years in my head, waiting impatiently for this day to come, but my mind freezes; completely void and blank of all my countless lists.

I trap my lip even tighter then I knew possible between my teeth, willing the blurriness in my eyes to blink away.

I turn away from the now empty room, once filled with my childhood everything, and face the open waiting doorway. I stare angrily at the baseboard along the door, showcasing my growing adolescence, hating I have to leave what feels like girlhood behind.

Before I realize, my hand is tracing up the wall, along my developing height, mind wandering to all the memories I can finally leave behind, but can no longer bring myself too.

I snatch my hand away as I get to the last pencil mark, as if I have been burned, and I squeeze my eyes tighter than ever before.

I knew it was going to be hard.

Obviously leaving behind everything Ive ever known wasn’t going to be. I just didn’t expect to feel so unsure.

Knock knock! I turn around from finishing up packing my clothes into boxes and respond “Come in.” Peter, my younger brother opens my bedroom door, walks in, and takes a slow look around my room which has boxes that have been taped up. I can hear him sniffling as he looks around and when he lifts his eyes to look at my face; I see that his eyes are puffy and his nose is runny. I grab a tissue and hold it out to him, he takes it and rubs his nose with it.

He walks up to me and I wrap my arms around him as he whispers to me “One more day then you’ll be Mrs. Chavez and moving to Nevada which is so far from Indiana. I am going to miss you so much, Addy.” I hug him tighter and kiss him on the forehead, he puts his head onto my chest. I remind him that even though I am moving across the country after I get married he is still my little brother whom I love and nothing will ever change that.

Another knock at my door interrupts us and I respond “Come in.” The door opens, and my dad walks in and wraps his arms around us both. I look at both of them and my voice breaks as I thank them for always being here for me and that I love them both. We stand embracing for a while, and I think about all the memories I have made in this house over the last 25 years from my junior prom to learning how to ride a bike when I was 6. It’s not easy leaving the only place you have known for so long.

We break apart and my dad asks me if I finished packing. I admit that most of my stuff is packed except for my books and stuff in my bathroom. They both offer to help and my books and the stuff in my bathroom get packed up in the blink of an eye.

We walk out of my bedroom and into the living room where the clock on the wall says it’s 720pm. Peter turns to us and shouts, “It’s dinner time, what do you guys want to eat?” I mumble to myself “Oh no, this is going to take forever since we never seem to agree on what to have for dinner.”

I don’t think it’s good that I’m having panic attacks when I realize I have to go home in 10 minutes.

Maybe I should leave. Maybe I’d be better off on my own instead of with the people who hate me.

If I left now, and never looked back, maybe I’d be better off. Maybe then I wouldn’t hurt so much. Maybe then I wouldn’t hear their voices every night saying I deserved to die, and everyone like me.

When I talk to them, I hold my breath. I tuck my hands deep into my pockets, shrink back, and look for the closest door — just in case I need it.

I know why I do this. I know why I panic. I know why I’m so screwed up. But no one else does. I wish I could tell them. But it would just mess everything up.

The moment I say what they say, people cringe, but they don’t do anything. And if I say what they do…

I don’t want it to get worse. I’m just so scared I can’t even handle a hug from a friend who I know won’t hit me any more. I miss the feeling of safety. I’m afraid because I’m forgetting what that feeling is like.

Just three more years, I keep telling myself.

I don’t know if I will make it through this summer, but maybe I’ll try. Maybe I’ll stay and try to make things better. And maybe I won’t feel the need to hide from my parents anymore.

I inhale as deeply as i can, trying to imprint as much as possible in my mind, so as not to forget a single detail.

I am still in disbelief it’s finally here.

For years i have told myself ‘just a little longer’, waiting impatiently for this day to come and now that it’s here I can’t help but blink rapidly to stop the overcoming grief from spilling out of my eyes.

It was never supposed to really come. I never meant it. I never really wanted to leave, It’s just what i was supposed to want. ‘Anywhere but here’.

The alarm on my watch begins to ring, signalling an overwhelming sense of discomfort and heartbreak. It’s time to leave.

My hand unwillingly moves to grab the handle of my suitcase and my vision clouds unbearably.

This is really it. I know in my soul, that it’s time to go.

When I was in college, I have a super clear memory of me and a couple of friends going out one Saturday night. We had a long day of being degenerates, and now, we were hungry. It was late March of senior year, and I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life (still don’t). But it is a weird age. You’re technically an adult but the life experience of a child. The amount of freedom and uncertainty that was in the balance of my life was absurd.

Anyways, on this night we went to this bomb taco spot. It was raining and we were all exhausted. We walked into the store and I instantly perked up to this amazing song bumping on the speakers. It was “Wats Wrong” by Isaiah Rashad, and I was blown away. I considered myself an indiehead up until this point, with no interest in exploring hip hop.

I was able to Shazam the song and I remember that night I listened to all of his albums, vibing and hanging with college friends, knowing that the fun was coming to an end, but pretending like life was gonna stay like this forever.

This album and Isaiah Rashad have become one of the most influential artists that not only influenced my taste in hip hop and music, but has also inspired me to write more.

Even more importantly, this album in particular acted as a cast iron chest, collecting and sealing a whole lot of good memories and feeling from a very specific time in my life. I can give this album a listen and just time travel, back to a time where I knew those days are gonna be, “the good ole days”. It’s the best feeling to go and have a look, whenever I please.

I hope everyone can find their version of The Sun’s Tirade like I have, it’s beautiful to have such clear memories.

The night before pack my bag . Get all papers that I need . Get all the cash I hid . Ok let’s do this .

The next day “no mom it’s all good . Don’t forget I be late getting home tonight.”

I am not coming home tonight .I am going to somewhere that will allow me to save up and send her money I hope she will understand why I had to do this .

I get it . She is so sick and this can help her . So I have to do this as the only child that cares about her .

Latter that night on a bus ok Nashville here I come . No not going tere to sing or anything like that.

I am going to make better money to give my mom .

I'm leaving, and its for good this time. I'm leaving this place that I've been stuck in for years. I've never knows a place where you can be surrounded by so many people yet be so alone. but that is here. here i am alone, i have no one but the voices in my head. i sit alone and wait until i can escape, and now i can. and i will. I'm leaving and I'm never coming back. no matter how much i love the people who have made me feel alone for years i will never look back, i will never turn around. i cant or i will never get away. i leave now i can never ever come back, that's it, gone. i need to disappear its the only way to truly escape. to be truly gone.

How do you leave home when you never had one my home was full of failures my cheating father my gaslighting mom not to mention my college dropout and pot smoking brother not much there life has been full of turmoil and trouble sure I’ve sorted through most of it but still do I even want to say goodbye these people didn’t raise me right I’m not saying I wanted perfect just not worst. Goodbye I guess to all I never loved. I am going forward to actually live life in a good environment not one where I am constantly looking over my shoulder. Maybe now you’ll realise all you have done but really did it have to take your daughter going off to college on the other side of the world to realise? You daughter Bryn

I run. Run as fast as I can from the objects flying at me- the words shooting me in the back. The door closes with a bang- I’m sure my neighbours can hear it from a mile away. But they can’t hear my tears. They’re silent. I didn’t think this through. I don’t regret it- but I didn’t think this through.

See, the thing is, I didn’t know that home didn’t have to be a place until it was far too late. Until the doors of sickness opened and out spilled every evil this world has ever known. Until I felt suffering and had no means of fixing my broken pieces. I always knew that I loved you. Probably too much, too violently. I was young then. How is a child supposed to comprehend what love is let alone how to feel it? It’s one thing to tell your parents you love them but another completely to be able to understand its implications. It’s funny though. Poetic. You only know the value of something once it’s taken away. I couldn’t see you, so I craved you more than life itself. You were the light at the end of my endless tunnel; the beacon that would lead me to salvation. Of course, that’s not how things work. I tried and I tried to convince myself that I meant- that I mean- as much to you as you mean to me but, as is the way of this cruel planet, I wasn’t enough. You grew distant. Bored of me perhaps. I was too connected to your youth and yet your soul didn’t wail with the same perpetual agony each day we were apart as mine did. I’ve learnt to accept this now. It’s taken me years, but it’s ok. You don’t need to love me half as much as I loved you for me to know that at one point you were my home. So now, I’m leaving you behind. I need to move on and find a place that loves me more than you ever could. With you, I found something I would die for, but I’ve come to realise that I am much too readily willing to die than is widely considered acceptable- so, it is my hope, that one day, I will find something I want to live for. That’s the most I can offer.