Weirdness.

I really realised today that I'm leaving home.

See, we were cleaning my bedroom. And Mum came across my Harry Potter books, which live on my floor because I ran out of bookshelf room years ago. She insisted I pick them up, I said, "Give me a box to put the books in that I'm taking to college, and I'll put Harry Potter in the space left behind."

So I stuck all my Terry Pratchett books and a fair amount of others in the box. And then I got a carton for more. And now I'm waiting for a third box to put my good writing books in.

And I looked at the space where my books were, and it was weirdly awful.

They're edging me out. Jenna has already taken over my dresser - I have nowhere to put my clothes. Daddy and I were watching TV a few weeks ago, and there was a particularly good commercial for "Standoff," and I said, "We're so watching that!" and he said, "No, we're not. You don't live here anymore."

How long until I download my files and then delete them off this computer? How long before I really don't live here anymore? Will I ever have to clean my room again - this room, anyway?

And I don't want to live here anymore. I know that. I've been focused for months on getting the hell out.

I think I'll miss it, all the same.