To find a new meaning:
The finish line I have been running to for 18 years
is really the starting gunshot.
To leave behind the grimy bathroom I share with two middle schoolers;
the sound of my father playing Beatles hits on the guitar
(they are my favorite because he plays them);
my mother's arms and oatmeal cookies;
warm summer nights full of good people and no concrete plans:
To leave FAMILIarity behind
and to seek a loud, rude, brash mystery
of bills, my own apartment, and becoming who I am.
It is terrifying.
It is exhilarating.
I am ready.