only one month and eight days

It is April 23rd. April 23rd means exactly one month and eight days until I leave for San Francisco.

Everyday that I wake up I feel more and more anxious, knowing that my departure date is so soon, knowing that I have so much left to do, knowing that I will soon be separated from my mother and g and a few other wonderful people.

And for what reason(s) am I leaving these oh-so-precious people and my familiar Virginia? To start new? To start a completely unfamiliar, terrifying new? It sounds crazier every time  think about it...

I am worried I am not leaving for the right reasons. I think its possible to equate what I am doing with running away. This year has been so dreadfully confusing and impossible- I have been so happy, but I have just as often been so goddamn miserable. I suppose that even if what I am doing can be named 'running away,' is it really so bad if all of the prior mentioned bullshit is what I am escaping from?

San Francisco is 2,940 miles away. That is a lot of miles.