Tomorrow morning I’m leaving my life behind.
Tomorrow morning a 6-year relationship is officially ending.
Tomorrow morning my father is going to rescue his 23-year-old daughter, something I’m not sure either of us saw ever happening.
Tomorrow morning I’m putting my pets into crates and shipping them down South (this isn’t a creepy euphemism for euthanasia, we’re literally moving to Atlanta).
Tomorrow morning I’m putting a yellow key on a coffee table that isn’t mine.
Tomorrow morning I’m going to cry.
Tomorrow morning I’m going to scream.
Tomorrow night I’m going to be with my family.
Tomorrow night they’re going to comfort me.
Tomorrow night my sisters are going to want me look at their school work.
Tomorrow night my life is going start again.