I don’t want to move, it’s not fair. I know this sounds like a stereotypical response from a kid when they are told they are moving, but it’s true I don’t want to move, and the fact that I have to isn’t fair. It’s not like I’m moving with my parents because they got new jobs, or because I am going to a different school. In fact, it is the complete opposite; I am moving because my parents couldn’t get it together. I have lived with my grandparents since I was four and a half, and I can’t remember anything but that. We didn’t move in with my grandparents because they needed assistance or help; we moved in because my parents couldn’t financially support us anymore, and while it was only supposed to be for six months, that turned into thirteen and a half years. I am so angry because if it wasn’t for them, I could stay in my home, in my town, with my best friend, with my other family, and in a place that I may not always be in but feels safe and stable. I don’t want to move to Virginia. I have nothing and nobody there; the only thing I have in that town is my brother’s college that he has already graduated from. I hate that I feel like I’m being dramatic; I know I’m not, and I know I am valid for feeling what I am, but I also feel like, in an odd way, I knew this would happen one day, so why am I so upset if I was prepared for it? It feels like I am being suffocated by this situation, like every day it is getting closer and closer, and I’m getting less and less control. I know I won’t be there a lot with college coming up, but I don’t ever want to be there; I want to be at home in my room, in my house. I can’t live with my dad, and I won’t live with my mom, and so I know I don’t have options here, and yes, much worse things could be happening; it is just so frustrating to think about because if they had gotten it together for themselves and for me, I wouldn’t have to move to the middle of no where, Lexington, Virginia. I don’t want to pack my life into a bunch of boxes because it feels like it doesn’t do my life justice, my life is so much more than what is being packed away into those boxes. So much more happened in that house that shaped me as a person than what can be shoved in those boxes. I don’t want to accept that it is happening; I don’t want to come to terms with he fact that my parents couldn’t and didn’t get it together for me; they didn’t care enough to get it together for me, and it sucks.

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