I made it. I’m here.

Settling in. This was taken on Sunday, hence why things are still a mess. I’m still unpacking.

The one downside to this place is that it does not have air-conditioning. Right now it’s 6:00 pm, and it’s 107 degrees outside. And hotter in my room. (Which is why I’m now hanging out at one of the libraries that I’m now in walking distance to).

Apparently, I planned everything my mother would have send to me well enough that I covered it all in my letter. So much so that when I went back to pack, the only thing she had to say to me was, “I don’t know what to say.”

I was in and out in an hour or two.

The only thing I can say about that day is this: I may have lost a shoddy family, but I have a very, very good friend.

My platonic soulmate was with me the whole time. He spent the whole morning repeating “you’ll be fine, it’ll be fine” as I shook, and cried, and panicked.

“How do you know?” I asked him at one point.

“Because I’ll be there with you every single moment. I will help you. I will make it be okay.”

At eight, he was waiting online to register for next year’s Comic Con. “We’re leaving when you’re ready, it’s based on you, not on me or this,” he told me. “If I miss the chance to register, then I just won’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You come first.”

“You’re incredible.”

He shrugged. “I call it being a decent friend.”

He took me back and helped me pack up. Let me lean on him and hug him when things got too tough.

Took me back to his house and let me have some water and breathe for a bit before we went to put my stuff in my new place.

Took me out to eat at noon for lunch (well, lunch for him, breakfast for me) so that we could sit, and talk, and I could attempt to process what happened.

And then, I came back to my new home, and began the emotional downward spiral. The silence felt too oppressive, the unfamiliarity too much, everything felt like a trigger, everything felt too impossible. I wanted to go home. I started texting him that. “I’m going home, I’m going home right now.”

“No, you aren’t. You can do this.”

“I can’t be alone. I thought I could be alone right now, but I can’t be alone.”

“What do you need from me? I won’t take you to your mother, but what do you need?”

“I need sleep in some place familiar and safe where I’m not alone.”

“I’ll be right over to get you.”

So he drove all the way out of his way, just to come get me and let me spend the day on his couch, sleeping and resting, and letting him distract me.

Brought me back here and talked to me online until I fell asleep. I’m not sure he ever got a nap between 5:30 am and midnight.

Basically, despite the awfulness and sadness and fear of Saturday, I was taken care of. In fact, this might be the first day that I can recall that I was completely taken care of.

I have a good friend. Who loves me.

Now comes the time to learn how to take care of myself.

Edit: Also, I printed out the comments I got on my previous post asking for support, so that I could hold onto them, and read them. Thank you for those, they helped a lot.