Moving On

To end the year, a very short story! 

The music drifted out of the club like a vibrating pulse. I could feel it in my bones. The night was alive with possibility. I could even imagine myself finally moving out. I’d been planning it for so long. My parents probably wouldn’t even notice if I left.

Besides, it’s what people my age were supposed to do. You grow up, get out of high school, and move on. Some go to college, others get jobs. Not me, I’d stayed home. My parents honestly didn’t seem to care one way or another. They continued to give me an allowance like nothing had changed.

It wasn’t healthy for someone who was 21 to still live at home and not work, or do anything really. I think no one pushed the issue with me because of the accident. It’d been 5 years, but no one talked about it. I didn’t even talk about it with my therapist. We all knew it happened, but we didn’t discuss it.

I’d realized a few years ago that I was using it as an excuse to do nothing. When I’d admitted it to myself, I felt like a coward. My brother would be disappointed in me. We’d always talked about what we would be when we grew up. He never got the chance, and I was just wasting mine.

I stopped outside the club and let the pulsing vibrations of the music bombard me. Enough was enough. I needed to do something, anything.

Not tomorrow. Today. It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night. Now was the time.

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