That old melancholy feeling.

Tonight we booked one-way tickets to the US. In 5 weeks we'll be saying goodbye to New Zealand and starting anew somewhere in the States.

I know I should be ecstatic about it, but I'm not. All I feel is this deep sense of melancholy. We've been planning to leave NZ since before I even moved here, but now the plans are so permanent and I find myself asking "Why are we moving?". I know all the logical reasons why, I just can't seem to give a shit about them anymore. Who leaves a place that makes them happy for the unknown that could bring them misery? Apparently we do. What the fuck is up with that?

Okay, I'll admit it...I'm scared. Not just a little, I mean I am completely overwhelmed by this huge fear that is sitting squarely on my chest. I think it's having a lovely chat with the neurotic panic and paranoia currently circling 'round in my mind. The two of them are having quite the party with my sanity (what little I have).

I suppose the fact that I've been sick since New Year's with some "tummy bug" (as named by the urgent care doc I saw) that seems more like a tummy gila monster is not really helping the matter any. I haven't been able to take most of my medication so I'm feeling really grand at the moment if you catch my drift.

I have an ENTIRE FLAT FULL OF SHIT to sort, sell off, or pack and ship, but instead of doing that I'm sitting here with this "deer caught in the headlights" dazed look on my face, in between the bouts of hysterical tears.

I've been trying to find my happy place, but I think it's on vacation indefinitely. Probably sunning itself on the same tropical beach as my sanity. Bastards.