I Spent the day moving my brother into his new apartment.
I will probably spend most of tomorrow moving the rest of his stuff and helping him set the place up.
Thursday I will be spending the whole day shopping for my new apartment.

I am all running through a gambit of emotions, Trying to sort them all out in my mixed up stressed out mind.

His apartment is really good, It has come together very nicely. He seems pleased with it, which is better then the standard apathy or disgust so I feel like we made the right choice in where he was moving. It is a little more expensive then we wanted, and not 100% perfect But it is very respectable and he can always look for another place when he starts to sort his life out.

I am closing on my apartment in Brooklyn Monday, Which seems so very surreal to me. I should of closed on July 2nd, and apathetic incompetent beauracratic lawyers and there never ending spool of red tape has pushed my closing back till Monday. I started packing 6 months ago, my current house is in contract. I have been working and planning this move for what seems to be an eternity, and now that it is all coming together I am not sure how I feel about it.

I know I am stressed, I still have miles to go in renovations, modifications, and moving before this whole business is finally concluded. I feel like my life has been on hold completely wrapped up in this move for a very long time. Constantly saying I will do it when I am settled in my new place, or things will be better once I have moved, I will have less stress then, less to worry about. But it all feels like lame excuses to procrastinate cause here I am in the home stretch and I am really worried about what comes next.

Part of it is saying goodbye to my home, the place I have lived for 12 years. The memories here are practically infinite. Memories of my parents haunt this place, of a time before the divorce, the drugs and the death. High school traumas, Parties, Friends both still around and lost. This is the home my family lived in when it was still a family. Where so many of my friends wasted away our uncomplicated free time. The first bedroom I had all to myself, My first back yard, Summer barbecues. This was a great home and it is time for me to leave it. That alone makes me very sad. I wish I could somehow keep it, like a souvenir that I could put on a shelf and stumble across every now and then.

I worry about my new place, I am spending so much money getting it, furnishing it, making it the perfect place for me to spend the next phase of my life. Focusing on the details and trying to make it my own, a place I can feel comfortable in and feel like I am home again. I don’t know what working so hard on all the details is supposed to accomplish. In the end it is gonna be just another place to sleep and store my crap.

I worry about living alone again. I have honestly only had a handful of hours alone in my house in years. Living with my brother or friends, constantly having guests over, random poker, drinking nights and parties just cause everyone happened to stop by. No one will be randomly stopping by my new place. I will have to make more of an effort to be social. I will have to go out more, see my friends more. Meet new people in a new neighborhood.

In the end I understand that I have kicked the devil I know in the balls, and the anticipation of what comes next is what is really scaring me. I have made major changes in my life and have passed the point of no return. I just hope there isn’t a cliff or a monster waiting for me around the bend.